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MR.   PRATT 


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BY  JOSEPH  C.   LINCOLN 


"  No  other  writer  can  so  bring  out  the  character 
of  well  seasoned  old  salts,  at  once  shrewd  and 
unsophisticated  and  dryly  humorous."— Boston 
Advertiser. 

The  Old  Home  House 

"  Unusual  pleasure  is  in  store  for  the  reader  who 
happens  on  'The  Old  Home  House.'  It  is 
delightful." — Providence  Journal, 

"  A  better  collection  of  short  stories  would  be 
hard  to  find." — Boston  Transcript. 

I2mo.       Cloth.        Illustrated.        $1.25 


CAP'N  ERI 

"  All  the  freshness  of  realism  wedded  to  hu- 
mor."— New  York  Mail. 

"  Everybody's  friend."— New  York  Sun. 

I2mo.        Cloth.        Illustrated.       #1.50 


Partners  of  the  Tide 

■  Delightful  Cape  Codders  painted  with  Dutch 
accuracy  and  plenty  of  humor." — New  York  Sun. 

"  A  rattling  good  yam  of  the  sea  and  shore  full 
of  fun  and  stirring  incident."—  Chicago  Inter* 
Ocean. 

i2mo.        Cloth.       Illustrated.       $1.50 


MR.  PRATT 


A  NOVEL 


By  JOSEPH  C.  LINCOLN 

Author  op 
*«  Cap'n  Eri,"  m  Partners  of  the  Tide,"  Etc, 


With  Frontispiece 
By  HORACE  TAYLOR 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  v  NEW  YORK 


L 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
A.  S.  BARNES  &  COMPANY 


Published  May,  1906 

Second  Printing,  July,  1906 

Third  Printing,  October,  1906 

Fourth  Printing,  November,  1906 

Fifth  Printing,  February,  1907 

Sixth  Printing,  August,  1907 

Seventh  Printing,  November,  1907 

Eighth  Printing,  February,  1908 

Ninth  Printing,  September,  1908 

Tenth  Printing,  January,  1909 
Eleventh  Printing,  February,  1911 


$0 

MY    FRIEND 
OILMAN     HaLL 


2136746 


4P-«< 


NOTE 

The  germ  from  which  the  yarn  of  "Mr. 
Pratt"  developed  was  contained  in  a  short 
story  by  the  author,  which  appeared  in  "  Every- 
body's Magazine."  In  that  story,  "  The  Sim- 
plicity of  It,"  the  "Heavenly  Twins"  were 
middle  aged  men,  and  their  characters — as  well  as 
their  names — were  not  those  of  Hartley  and  Van 
Brunt.  But  they  did  try  to  live  the  "Natural 
Life,"  and  Mr.  Solomon  Pratt  then,  as  in  the 
present  instance,  assisted  in  the  attempt  and  told 
the  tale. 

J.  C.  L. 

Ha  t  kens  at  i,  N.  J.,  March  28,  ipo6. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 
I 

The  Masters 

PAGE 
I 

II 

The  Man    

iS 

III 

Too  Many  Cooks        .... 

32 

IV 

The  Pig  Race 

•    50 

V 

The  Cruise  of  the  "Dora  Bassett" 

68 

VI 

Ozone  Island 

85 

VII 

Sweet  Simplicity        .... 

.  104 

VIII 

Mr.  Scudder's  Presents    . 

122 

IX 

The  "Fresh  Airers"          . 

139 

X 

The  Voyage  of  the  Ark  . 

157 

XI 

Eureka      ...... 

176 

XII 

Miss  Sparrow's  Diagnosis 

194 

XIII 

The  Lawn  Fete         .... 

209 

XIV 

"The  Best  Laid  Plans"    . 

226 

XV 

The  White  Plague    .... 

244 

XVI 

The  Natural  Life     .... 

266 

XVII 

Across  the  Bay         .... 

284 

will 

Poor  Redny       

303 

XIX 

Simple  versus  Duplex       . 

323 

MR.   PRATT 


CHAPTER    I 
\THE  MASTERS 

1  HEARD  about  the  pair  first  from  Emeline 
Eldredge,  "  Emmie  T."  we  always  call  her. 
She  was  first  mate  to  the  cook  at  the  Old 
Home  House  that  summer.  She  come  down  to 
the  landing  one  morning  afore  breakfast  and  hove 
alongside  of  where  I  was  setting  in  the  stern  of 
my  sloop,  the  Dora  Bassett,  untangling  fish  lines. 
She  had  a  tin  pail  in  her  fist,  indicating  that  her 
sailing  orders  was  to  go  after  milk.  But  she  saw 
me  and  run  down  in  ballast  to  swap  yarns. 

"  My  sakes !  Mr.  Pratt,"  says  she ;  "have  you 
heard  about  Nate  Scudder?  " 

II  Yes,"  I  says.  "  Ever  since  I  come  to  Well- 
mouth." 

II I  mean  about  what  him  and  his  wife  has  just 
done,"  says  she.  "  It's  the  queerest  thing !  You'll 
never  guess  it  in  the  world." 


2  MR.  PRATT 

"  Ain't  been  giving  his  money  to  the  poor,  has 
he?"  says  I,  for,  generally  speaking,  it  takes  a 
strong  man  and  a  cold  chisel  to  separate  Nate 
Scudder  from  a  cent. 

44  Oh  1  ain't  you  the  funniest  thing/ "  she 
squeals.  "  No  indeed !  He's  let  his  house  to 
some  city  folks,  and " 

44  Ain't  that  the  cook  calling  you?"  I  asks. 
I'm  a  homeopath  when  it  comes  to  Emmie  T. ;  I 
like  to  take  her  in  small  doses — she  agrees  with 
me  better  that  way. 

It  was  the  cook,  and  Emeline  kited  off  after  the 
milk,  only  stopping  long  enough  to  yell  back: 
44  Folks  say  they're  dreadful  rich  and  stylish.  I'll 
tell  you  next  time  I  see  you." 

Well,  I  cal'lated  she  wouldn't — not  if  I  saw  her 
first — and  didn't  pay  no  more  attention  to  the 
yarn,  except  to  think  that  June  was  pretty  early 
for  city  folks  to  be  renting  houses.  There  was 
only  three  or  four  boarders  at  the  Old  Home  so 
far,  and  I  was  to  take  a  couple  of  'em  over  to 
Trumet  in  the  sloop  that  very  day. 

But,  while  we  was  on  the  way  over,  one  of  the 
couple — sort  of  a  high-toned  edition  of  Emmie  T. 
she  was — she  turns  to  her  messmate,  another  pullet 
from  the  same  coop,  and  says  she,  44  Oh  say!  "  she 


THE  MASTERS  3 

says.  "Have  you  heard  about  the  two  young 
fellers  from  New  York  who've  rented  that  Scud- 
der  house  on  the — on  the — what  do  they  call  it? 
Oh,  yes!  the  Neck  road.  I  heard  Nettie  Brown 
say  they  were  too  dear  for  anything.  Let's  drive 
past  there  to-morrow;  shall  we?" 

So  there  it  was  again,  and  I  begun  to  wonder 
what  sort  of  critters  Nate  had  hooked.  I  judged 
that  they  must  be  a  kind  of  goldfish  or  he  wouldn't 
have  baited  for  'em.  Nate  ain't  the  man  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  mess  of  sculpins. 

I  landed  the  boarders  at  Trumet  and  they  went 
up  to  the  village  to  do  some  shopping.  Then  I 
headed  across  the  harbor  to  shake  hands  with  the 
Trumet  light  keeper,  who  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
His  wife  told  me  he'd  gone  over  to  town,  too,  so 
I  come  about  and  run  back  to  the  landing  again. 
And  I'm  blessed  if  there  wa'n't  Nate  Scudder  him- 
self, setting  on  a  mackerel  keg  at  the  end  of  the 
wharf  and  looking  worried. 

I  hadn't  hoisted  the  jib  on  the  way  down,  and 
now  I  let  the  mainsail  drop  and  went  forward. 

"  Hello,  Nate !  "  I  hailed,  as  the  Dora  Bassett 
slid  up  to  the  wharf. 

He  kind  of  jumped,  and  looked  at  me  as  if  he'd 
just  woke  up. 


4,  MR.  PRATT 

"  Hello,  Sol ! "  he  says,  sort  of  mournful. 
Then  he  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  bay  again 
and  appeared  to  be  starting  in  on  another  nap. 

"  Hear  you  got  some  boarders  over  to  your 
home,"  I  says,  heaving  him  a  line  as  a  hint  for 
him  to  come  out  of  his  trance  and  make  me  fast. 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  paying  no  attention  to  the  line. 

"  Come  early  in  the  season,  ain't  they?  "  says  I, 
grabbing  hold  of  one  of  the  wharf  spiles  and 
bringing  my  boat  alongside  easy  as  I  could. 

"  Ya-as,"  says  he,  again.  Then  he  fetched  a 
long  breath  and  opened  his  mouth  as  if  he  was 
going  to  go  on.  But  he  didn't;  all  that  come  out 
of  the  mouth  afore  it  shut  up  was  another  "  Yes." 

I  made  the  Dora  Bassett  fast  myself  and 
climbed  on  to  the  wharf. 

"Are  they  cal'lating  to  stay  long?"  I  asks. 
He'd  got  me  interested.  Seemed  to  have  the 
"  yes  "  disease  bad. 

"Hey?"   says  he.     "  Oh— er— yes." 

I  was  a  little  mite  provoked.  Not  that  I  was 
hankering  to  have  Nate  Scudder  heave  his  arms 
around  my  neck  and  tell  me  he  loved  me,  but  I 
didn't  know  any  reason  why  my  pumps  should 
suck  dry  every  time  I  tried  'em. 

"  Humph !  "  I  grunted,  starting  to  walk  off. 


THE  MASTERS  5 

"Well,  be  careful  of  yourself;  look  out  it  don't 
develop  into  nothing  worse." 

11  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  sings  out,  seeming 
to  be  waked  up  for  good,  at  last. 

"  Qh,"  says  I;  "  I  judged  by  the  way  you  kept 
your  mouth  shut  that  you  had  sore  throat  and 
was  afraid  of  getting  cold.     Good  day." 

Would  you  believe  it,  he  got  up  off  that  mack- 
erel keg  and  chased  after  me. 

"  Hold  on,  Sol !  "  he  says,  kind  of  pleading. 
11  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you." 

I  had  to  laugh;  couldn't  help  it.  "  Yes,"  says 
I,  "  I  kind  of  suspicioned  that  you  did,  from  your 
chatty  remarks.  If  you'd  said  '  yes  '  nine  or  ten 
times  more  I'd  have  been  sure  of  it." 

"  Well,  I  did,"  he  says.  "  I  wanted  to  ask 
you — I  thought  I'd  see  what  you  thought — you 
see " 

Here  he  kind  of  faded  away  again,  and  stood 
still  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"  Look  here,  Nate  Scudder,"  I  says,  "  for  a 
man  that  wants  to  talk  you  make  the  poorest  fist 
at  it  of  anybody  ever  I  see.  Why  don't  you  try 
singing  or  making  signs?  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
you  got  ahead  faster." 


6  MR.  PRATT 

He  grinned,  a  feeble  sort  of  lop-sided  grin, 
and  tried  another  tack. 

"  You  was  speaking  of  them  boarders  of  mine," 
he  says. 

"  Yes;  /  was,"  I  says. 

"  They  come  day  afore  yesterday — early,"  says 
he. 

"  Um-hum.     So  I  heard,"  I  says. 

He  fidgeted  a  minute  or  so  more.  Then  he 
took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  back  to  the  keg. 

"  Sol,"  he  says,  "  set  down.  I  want  to  ask 
you  something.  By  gum!  I  got  to  ask  some- 
body.    I'm — I'm  worried." 

"  Yes?  "  I  said,  giving  him  a  little  of  his  own 
medicine. 

"  Yes.  Them  boarders — they  worry  me.  Me 
and  Huldy  set  up  till  nigh  eleven  o'clock  last  night 
talking  about  'em.  She  thinks  maybe  they  stole 
the  money,  and  I  don't  know  but  they're  crazy, 
run  away  from  an  asylum  or  something.  You've 
seen  more  city  folks  than  I  have,  being  around  the 
hotel  so.     See  what  you  think. 

11  'Twas  this  way,"  he  went  on;  "  I  got  a  letter 
from  the  feller  in  New  York  that  I  sell  cranberries 
to.  He  said  a  couple  of  friends  of  his  wanted  to 
come  to  a  place  in  the  country  where  'twas  quiet. 


THE  MASTERS  7 

Did  I  know  of  such  a  place  round  here?  Well, 
course  I  wrote  back  that  'twas  nice  and  quiet  right 
at  our  house.  There  wa'n't  no  lie  in  that,  was 
there,  Sol?" 

"  No,"  I  says.  "  I  should  say  'twouldn't  be 
shaving  the  truth  too  close  if  you'd  said  there  was 
more  quietness  than  anything  else  down  on  the 
Neck  road." 

"  Well,"  he  goes  on,  not  noticing  the  sarcasm, 
"  I  wrote  and  never  got  a  word  back.  Me  and 
Huldy  had  given  up  hearing.  And  then,  yester- 
day morning,  they  come — both  of  'em.  Nice 
lookin'  young  fellers  as  ever  you  see,  they  are; 
dressed  just  like  the  chaps  in  the  clothes  advertise- 
ments in  the  back  of  the  magazines.  The  biggest: 
one — they're  both  half  as  tall  as  that  mast,  seems: 
so — he  took  up  his  hat  and  says,  kind  of  lazy  and! 
grand,  like  a  steamboat  capt'n : 

"  '  Mr.  Scudder?'  he  says. 

"  '  That's  my  name,'  says  I.  I  was  kind  of  sus- 
picious; there's  been  so  many  sewing-machine 
agents  and  such  round  town  this  spring.  And  yet 
I'd  ought  to  have  known  he  wa'n't  no  sewing- 
machine  agent. 

"  '  Ah ! '  he  says.  '  You've  been  expecting  us 
then.     Has  the  luggage  come  ?  ' 


8  MR.  PRATT 

"  What  in  time  did  I  know  about  his  '  luggage,' 
as  he  called  it? 

"  ■  No,'  says  I.     '  'Tain't.' 

" '  Oh,  well,  never  mind,'  he  says,  just  as 
if  a  ton  or  two  of  baggage  didn't  count  any- 
way. '  Can  you  give  us  two  sleeping  rooms, 
two  baths,  a  setting  room,  and  a  room  for  my 
man?  ' 

"  '  Two  baths? '  says  I.  '  Can't  you  take  a 
bath  by  yourself?  You  seem  to  be  having  lots  of 
funny  jokes  with  me.  Would  you  mind  saying 
what  your  name  is  and  what  you  want  ? ' 

11  He  looked  me  over  sort  of  odd.  '  Beg  par- 
don,' he  said.  '  I  thought  you  were  expecting  us. 
Here's  my  card.' 

"  I  looked  at  it,  and  there  was  the  name  '  Ed- 
ward Van  Brunt,'  printed  on  it.  Then  I  begun 
to  get  my  bearings,  as  you  might  say. 

"'  Oh!  'I  says.     *  I  see.' 
'  "  *  So  glad,  I'm  sure,'  he  says.     '  Now  can  you 
give  us  the  sleeping  rooms,  the  baths,  and  the 
room  for  my  man  ?  ' 

"  '  Humph ! '  says  I,  lookin'  back  at  the  house 
behind  me;  'if  me  and  Huldy  bunked  in  the  hen- 
house and  the  chore  boy  in  the  cellar,  maybe  we 
cfould  accommodate  you,  that  is,  all  but  the  baths. 


THE  MASTERS  9 

You'd  have  to  take  turns  with  the  washtub  for 
them,'  I  says. 

"  He  laughed.  He  was  so  everlasting  cool 
about  things  that  it  sort  of  riled  me  up. 

"  '  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  hire  the  whole  she- 
bang? '  says  I,  sarcastic,  pointing  to  the  house. 

"  He  looked  at  it.  It  looked  sort  of  cheerful, 
with  the  syringa  over  the  door  and  the  morning- 
glories  hiding  where  the  whitewash  was  off. 

"  '  Good  idea !  '  he  says.     '  I  would.' 

11  Well,  that  was  too  many  for  me !  I  went 
into  the  house  and  fetched  out  Huldy  Ann — she's 
my  wife.  There  ain't  many  women  in  this  town 
can  beat  her  when  it  comes  to  managing  and  busi- 
ness, if  I  do  say  it. 

"  '  How  long  would  you  want  the  house  for?  ' 
says  Huldy,  when  I  told  her  what  was  going  on. 

"  '  A  month,'  says  Van  Brunt,  turning  to  the 
other  city  feller.  '  Hey,  Martin?  '  T'other  chap 
nodded. 

"  \  All  right,'  says  Van  Brunt.     '  How  much?  ' 

"  Thinks  I,  '  I'll  scare  you,  my  fine  feller.' 
And  so  I  says,  '  A  month  ?  Well,  I  don't  know. 
Maybe,  to  accommodate,  I  might  let  you  have  it 
for  two  hundred.'  I  sort  of  edged  off  then,  think- 
ing sure  he'd  be  mad;  but  he  wa'n't — not  him. 


io  MR.  PRATT 

11  'Two  hundred  it  is,'  he  says,  and  fished  out  a 
little  blank  book  and  one  of  them  pocket  pens. 

"  '  Name's  Scudder?  '  he  asks. 

"  '  Yes,'  says  I.  '  Nathan  Scudder.  One  T  in 
Nathan.' 

u  And  I  don't  know  as  you'll  believe  it,  Sol," 
says  Nate,  finishing  up,  "  but  that  feller  made  out 
a  check  for  two  hundred  and  passed  it  over  to  me 
like  'twas  a  postage  stamp.  What  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

I  didn't  know  what  to  think  of  it.  On  general 
principles  I'd  say  that  a  man  who  wanted  to  board 
with  Nate  and  Huldy  Ann  Scudder  was  crazy  any- 
how ;  but  of  course  these  fellers  didn't  know. 

"  It  beats  me,  Nate,"  I  says.  "  What  do  you 
think?" 

II  Blessed  if  I  know !  "  says  Scudder,  with  an- 
other of  them  long  breaths.  "  All  I'm  sure  of  is 
that  they're  up  home,  with  the  parlor  blinds  open 
and  the  carpet  fading,  and  me  and  Huldy's  living 
in  the  barn.  She's  doing  the  cookin'  for  'em  till 
this  '  man  '  of  theirs  comes.  Land  knows  what 
kind  of  a  man  he  is,  too.  And  that  check  was  on  a 
New  York  bank,  and  I've  just  been  up  to  Trumet 
here  with  it  and  the  cashier  says  'twill  be  a  week 
afore  I  know  whether  it's  good  or  not.     And  I 


THE  MASTERS  u 

can't  make  out  whether  them  two  are  thieves,  or 
lunatics,  or  what.  And  Huldy  can't  neither.  I 
never  was  so  worried  in  my  life." 

I  kind  of  chuckled  down  inside.  The  idea  of 
anybody's  skinning  Nate  Scudder  was  the  nighest 
to  the  biter's  being  bit  of  anything  I  ever  come 
across.  And  just  then  I  see  my  two  passengers 
coming. 

"  Well,  cheer  up,  Nate,"  I  says.  "  Maybe  you'll 
get  the  reward,  whether  it's  lunatics  or  thieves. 
Only  you  want  to  look  out  and  not  be  took  up  for 
an  accomplice."  \ 

He  fairly  shriveled  up  when  I  said  that,  and  I 
laughed  to  myself  all  the  way  out  of  Trumet  har- 
bor. One  thing  I  was  sure  of:  them  two  New 
Yorkers  must  be  queer  birds  and  I  wanted  to 
see  'em. 

And  the  very  next  afternoon  I  did  see  'em.  They 
come  down  the  Old  Home  pier  together,  walking 
as  if  they  didn't  care  a  whole  continental  whether 
they  ever  got  anywheres  or  not.  One  of  'em,  the 
smallest  one — he  wa'n't  more'n  six  foot  one  and  a 
ha'f — looked  sort  of  sick,  to  me.  He  had  a  white 
face,  and  that  kind  of  tired,  don't-care  look  in  his 
eye;  and  the  bigger  one  sort  of  'tended  to  things 
for  him. 


i2  MR.  PRATT 

"  Good  morning,"  says  the  big  one — the  Van 
Brunt  one,  I  judged — cheerful  enough.  T'other 
chap  said,  u  Good  morning,"  too. 

"  Morning,"  says  I. 

11  Can  you  take  us  out  sailing?  " 

u  Why— er — I  guess  so,"  I  says.  "I  don't  know 
why  I  can't,  if  you  feel  like  going.    Course " 

I  hadn't  finished  what  I  was  going  to  say  afore 
they  was  in  the  boat.  Now,  generally  speaking, 
there's  some  bargaining  to  be  done  afore  you  take 
folks  out  for  a  three-dollar  sail.  You  naturally 
expect  it,  you  know — not  so  much  from  boarders 
as  from  towners,  but  still,  some.  But  not  for  these 
two — no,  sirl  It  was  this  powerful  suddenness 
of  theirs  that  hit  me  betwixt  wind  and  water,  same 
as  it  had  Nate.  Made  me  feel  sort  of  like  I'd 
missed  the  train.  Stirred  up  my  suspicions  again, 
too. 

'Twas  a  nice  day;  one  of  them  clear  blue  and 
green  days  that  you  get  early  in  June.  The  water 
wa'n't  rugged,  but  just  choppy  enough  to  be  pretty, 
and  the  breeze  was  about  no'theast,  givin'  us  a  fair 
run  down  the  bay. 

"  This  is  grand !  "  says  the  big  fellow,  as  the 
Dora  Bassett  begun  to  feel  her  oats  and  lay  down 
to  her  work. 


THE  MASTERS  13 •. 

"  Caesar!  Van,"  said  the  other  one;  "  why  do 
you  bring  me  down  to  earth  like  that?  Grand! 
Bleecker  next!  "  He  hollered  out  this  last  part  in 
a  kind  of  screechy  sing-song.  Then  they  both 
laughed. 

I  looked  at  'em.  There  wa'n't  nothing  to  laugh 
at,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  and  the  "  Bleecker  "  busi- 
ness didn't  appear  to  have  no  sense  in  it,  either. 
They  made  two  or  three  other  speeches  that 
sounded  just  as  foolish.  Thinks  I,  "  I  wonder  if 
Scudder's  right?  "  They  didn't  look  like  lunatics, 
but  you  can't  always  tell.  Old  man  Ebenezer 
Doane  went  to  church  of  a  Sunday  morning  just 
as  sensible  acting  as  a  Second  Adventer  could  be ; 
but  when  he  got  home  he  fired  the  bean-pot  at  his 
wife,  chased  his  children  out  door  with  a  clam  hoe, 
and  they  found  him  settin'  a-straddle  of  the  hen- 
house singing  "  Beulah  Land "  to  the  chickens. 
These  fellers  might  be  harmless  loons  that  had 
been  farmed  out,  as  you  might  say,  by  the  asylum 
folks.  There  was  that  "  man  "  that  Nate  said  was 
coming.    life  might  be  their  keeper. 

"  I  understand  you've  got  a  friend  coming," 
says  I,  by  way  of  ground  bait. 

II  Friend?  "  says  the  big  one.  "Friendf  I  don't 
understand." 


i4  MR.  PRATT 

"  Scudder  said  you  had  another  man  coming  to 
his  house,"  says  I. 

He  smiled.  "  Oh,  I  see."  Then  he  smiled 
again,  a  queer  lazy  kind  of  a  smile,  like  as  if  he  was 
amused  at  himself  or  his  thoughts. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  should  call  him  a  friend, 
Mr. — er " 

"  Pratt,"  says  I.    "  Solomon  Pratt." 

"  Thanks.  No,  I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  call 
him  a  friend;  and  yet  he's  not  an  enemy — not 
openly."  He  smiled  again,  and  the  other  chap— 
whose  name  I  found  out  was  Hartley — Martin 
Hartley — smiled  too. 

11  He's  the  man  Van  here  belongs  to,"  ex- 
plained the  Hartley  one.  They  both  smiled 
.  again. 

I  kind  of  jumped,  I  guess,  when  he  said  that. 
It  began  to  look  as  if  the  asylum  idea  was  the  right 
one,  and  this  feller  that  was  coming  was  the  keeper. 

"  Hum,"  says  I,  and  nodded  my  head  just  as  if 
the  whole  business  was  as  plain  as  A  B  C.  "  Do 
you  belong  to  anybody?  "  I  says  to  Hartley. 

"  I  did,"  says  he,  "  but  he's  doing  time." 

'"  Doing  time?  "  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  explaining,  kind  of  impatient 
like.    "  Up  the  river,  you  know." 


THE  MASTERS  15 

I  chewed  over  this  for  a  minute,  and  all  I  could 
think  of  was  that  the  feller  must  be  in  a  clock  fac- 
tory or  a  watchmaker's  or  something. 

"Watches?"  I  asks. 

Hartley  seemed  to  be  too  tired  of  life  to  want 
to  answer,  but  his  chum  did  it  for  him. 

II  No,"  says  he.  "  I  believe  it  was  pearl  studs 
on  the  showdown." 

Well,  this  was  crazy  talk  enough  for  anybody. 
I  didn't  want  to  stir  'em  up  none — I've  always 
heard  that  you  had  to  be  gentle  with  lunatics — so  I 
went  on,  encouraging  'em  like. 

"Studs,  hey?"  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  he.  "  He  was  a  British  beast,  and 
Martin  was  all  balled  up  in  the  Street  at  the  time — 
away  from  his  apartments  a  good  deal — and  the 
B.  B.  annexed  everything  in  sight." 

"Go  'long!"  says  I,  for  the  sake  of  saying 
something. 

"  Beg  pardon,"  says  he. 

"  Nothing,"  says  I;  and  we  stopped  talking. 

They  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sail  first  rate,  and 
acted  as  rational  as  could  be,  generally  speaking. 
They  didn't  know  a  topping  lift  from  a  center- 
board,  so  far  as  boat  went,  but  that  wa'n't  strange ; 
I'd  seen  plenty  of  boarders  like  that.     But  never 


ib  MR.  PRATT 

afore  had  I  seen  two  that  acted  or  talked  like 
them. 

We  got  back  to  the  wharf  along  about  dusk,  and 
I  walked  with  'em  a  piece  on  their  way  to  Nate's. 
I  was  keeping  a  sort  of  old  bach  hall  just  outside 
the  village  and  so  it  wa'n't  much  out  of  my  way. 
They  had  me  guessing  and  I  wanted  more  time  to 
work  on  the  riddle. 

We  cut  across  Sears's  meadow,  and  the  frogs 
was  beginning  to  squeal  and  the  crickets  to  chirp. 
To  me  them  early  summer  noises  are  as  cheerful 
and  restful  as  a  teakettle  singing  or  a  cat  purring. 
But,  all  at  once,  Hartley,  the  sick  one,  stopped 
and  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Heavens,  Van !  "  he  says.  u  It  sounds  like 
the  ticker,"  and  he  said  it  so  prayerful  and  sad. 

Van  Brunt  shook  his  head.  "  Don't  it?  "  says 
he.  "  I  can  see  the  tape  running  off  that  tree. 
1  Green  Apples  Preferred,  106  bid  and  8  asked.' 
Is  there  no  escape?  "  he  says. 

I  left  'em  on  the  hill  by  the  Baptist  burying 
ground.  I  watched  'em  walking  down  the  road, 
big  and  straight  and  handsome,  and  I  pitied  'em 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

"  Sol  Pratt,"  says  I  to  myself,  "  here's  a  lesson 
for  you.     You're  old  and  homely  and  your  bank 


THE  MASTERS  17 

account  is  nothing,  minus  a  good  deal,  divided  by 
naught;  but  don't  you  never  complain  again. 
S'pose  you  was  good-looking  and  rich,  but  out  of 
your  head,  like  them  two  poor  young  chaps.  Dear  I 
dear!" 

And  I  thought  about  'em  and  pitied  'em  all  that 
evening,  while  I  was  frying  my  herrings  for  sup- 
per. I  hope  I'll  get  credit  somewheres  for  all  fchfrt 
pity. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  MAN 

I  SEE  'em  pretty  often  during  the  next  week. 
They  used  to  loaf  down  to  the  landing  of  a 
morning,  smoking  cigars,  and  with  their 
hands  in  their  pockets.  Crazy  or  not,  there  was 
a  something  about  'em  that  kind  of  got  me;  I 
own  up  I  begun  to  like  'em,  in  spite  of  their  top- 
hamper  being  out  of  gear.  As  a  general  run  I 
don't  hanker  for  the  average  city  boarder.  He 
runs  too  much  to  yachting  clothes  and  patron- 
izing. Neither  the  clothes  nor  the  airs  set  well; 
kind  of  look  like  they  was  second-hand  and  made 
over  for  him  by  the  folks  at  home.  When  one  of 
that  kind  is  out  sailing  with  me,  and  begins  to  lord 
it  and  show  off  afore  the  girls,  the  Dora  Bassett 
is  pretty  apt  to  ship  some  spray  over  the  bow.  A 
couple  of  gallons  of  salt  water,  sliced  off  a  wave 
top  and  poured  down  the  neck  of  one  of  them 
fellers  is  the  best  reducer  I  know  of;  shrinks  his 
importance  like  'twas  a  flannel  shirt. 

But  Nate  Scudder's  private  patients  wa'n't  that 

18 


THE  MAN  ,9 

kind.  Not  that  they  wa'n't  dressed.  Land  sakes ! 
I  don't  s'pose  they  wore  the  same  vests  two  days 
running.  But  they  looked  like  they  was  used  to 
their  clothes,  not  as  if  they'd  just  been  introduced 
and  didn't  feel  to  home  in  'em.  And  they  didn't 
patronize  none  to  speak  of;  called  me  "  Skipper  " 
and  "Sol"  just  as  sociable  as  could  be.  And  as  for 
the  girls,  they  never  looked  twice  at  any  of  the 
hotel  ones.  Them  two  skittish  females  that  I  took 
over  to  Trumet  used  to  get  in  their  way  and  beg 
pardon  and  giggle,  hoisting  flirtation  signals,  &j 
to  speak,  but  Van  Brunt  and  Hartley  wouldn't 
even  come  up  into  the  wind;  just  keep  on  their 
course  like  they  was  carrying  the  mail.  'Twms 
these  two  females  that  first  named  'em  "The 
Heavenly  Twins  ";  'twas  shortened  later  to  "  The 
Heavenlies." 

Every  time  I  took  the  Heavenlies  on  a  cruise  the 
more  certain  I  was  that  they  were  loons — harmless 
and  good-natured,  of  course,  but  loons  just  the 
same.  Most  generally  they  carried  a  book  along 
with  'em  and  read  it  out  loud  to  each  other. 
They'd  read  a  spell  and  then  stop  and  break  out 
with,  "  By  Jove !  that's  so.  He's  right,  isn't  he?  " 
You'd  think  that  book  was  a  human  almost,  the 
way  they  went  on  about  it.     I've  heard  a  minister 


ao  MR.  PRATT 

do  the  same  way  over  the  Scriptures ;  but  this  wa'n't 
the  Bible,  the  name  of  it  was  "  The  Natural  Life." 
I  borrowed  it  once  to  look  at,  but  'twas  all  foolish- 
ness to  me ;  telling  about  money  being  a  cuss,  and 
such  rot.  I've  been  cussed  considerable  sence  I 
first  went  to  sea,  but  not  by  money — no,  sir! 

But  Van  Brunt  would  read  three  or  four  fathom 
of  rubbish  out  of  "  The  Natural,"  and  then  heave 
to  and  say: 

"  Odd  we  didn't  think  of  that  afore,  Martin. 
It  doesn't  count  for  much,  does  it?  Well,  we're 
through  with  it  now,  thank  God!  Look  at  that 
sunset.    Have  a  smoke,  skipper  ?  " 

And  then  he'd  pass  over  a  cigar  that  had  cost  as 
much  as  ten  cusses  a  box,  if  I'm  any  judge  of 
tobacco. 

One  night,  just  as  we  were  coming  into  port, 
Van  says  to  me : 

"  Sol,"  he  says.  "  We  may  want  you  and  the 
boat  to-morrow.  My  man'll  let  you  know  in  the 
morning.  Meanwhile  just  dodge  the  nautical 
bunch  at  the  hotel,  will  you?  " 

I  was  a  good  deal  shook  up.  I'd  almost  forgot 
that  keeper. 

"Man?"  says  I.  "Oh,  yes,  yes!  I  see.  Is 
he  here  now?  " 


THE  MAN,  21 

11  No;  coming  to-night,  I  believe.  By-by.  Just 
consider  yourself  engaged  till  you  hear  from 
us." 

They  walked  off  and  left  me  thinking.  Thinks 
I,  "  It's  a  fair  bet  that  that  keeper  don't  let  you 
two  go  boating  by  yourselves  again." 

So  the  next  day  about  half-past  nine,  when  I'd 
just  about  decided  to  let  some  of  the  boarders  have 
the  Dora  Bassett,  I  looked  up  from  my  fish  lines 
and  here  was  a  feller  coming  down  the  wharf. 

He  was  a  kind  of  an  exhibit  for  Wellmouth,  as 
you  might  say.  Leastways  he  was  bran-new  for 
me.  Six  foot  two  over  all,  I  should  judge,  and 
about  two  foot  in  the  beam.  Cast  a  shadow  like 
a  rake  handle.  Dressed  up  fine  and  precise,  and 
prim  as  a  Sunday-school  superintendent.  He 
looked  sort  of  gospelly,  too,  with  his  smooth  upper 
lip  and  turned-down  mouth,  and  little  two-for-a- 
cent  side  whiskers  at  half  mast  on  his  cheeks.  But 
his  eyes  was  fishy.  Thinks  I,  "  No  sir-ee !  I  don't 
want  to  subscribe  to  no  Temperance  Advocate, 
nor  buy  '  The  Life  of  Moses  and  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments,' nor  I  don't  want  to  have  my  tintype 
took  neither." 

He  stood  still  by  the  stringpiece  of  the  wharf 
and  looked  me  over,  kind  of  grand  but  well-mean- 


22  MR.  PRATT 

ing,  same  as  the  Prince  of  Wales  might  look  at  a 
hoptoad. 

"  'Ello,"  says  he. 

"  Hello,  yourself,"  says  I,  keeping  on  with  my 
work. 

"  Mr.  Edward  'as  ordered  the  boat  for  'alf  past 
eleven,"  he  says. 

"  I  want  to  know,"  says  I.  "  How'll  he  have  it 
—fried?" 

"  Beg  pardon?  "  says  he. 

"  You're  welcome,"  says  I.  I  can  stand  being 
patronized,  sometimes,  if  I'm  paid  for  it,  but  I 
didn't  see  this  critter  developing  no  cash  symptoms. 

"  My  good  man,"  he  says;  "you  don't  under- 
stand me.  I  said  that  Mr.  Edward  'ad  ordered  the 
boat  for  'alf  past  eleven." 

"  I  know  you  did.  And  I  asked  if  he'd  have  it 
fried." 

He  seemed  to  be  turning  this  over  in  his  mind. 
And  with  every  turn  he  got  more  muddled.  I'd 
concluded  by  this  time  that  he  wa'n't  a  book  agent. 
What  he  was  though  I  couldn't  make  out  nor  I 
didn't  much  care.     He  riled  me,  this  feller  did. 

"  Look  'ere,"  says  he,  after  a  minute.  "  Is  your 
name  Pratt?" 

"  Yup,"  I  says.    "  On  Thursdays  it  is." 


THE  MAN  2y 

tf  Thursdays?"  says  he.  "Thursdays?  What 
* — what  is  it  on  Fridays?  " 

"  Mister  Pratt,"  says  I,  pretty  average  brisk. 

He  seemed  to  be  more  muddled  than  ever.  He 
looked  back  towards  the  hotel  and  then  at  me 
again.  I  had  a  notion  he  was  going  to  sing  out 
for  help. 

"  My  man,"  he  says,  again.    "  My  man- " 

"  Humph !  "  I  interrupted.  "  Well,  if  I'm  your 
man  whose  man  are  you?  " 

And,  by  time!  he  seemed  to  understand  that! 
44  I'm  Mr.  Edward  Van  Brunt's  man,"  says  he, 
"  and  Mr.  Edward  'as  ordered  the  boat  for 
'alf " 

And  then  /  begun  to  understand — or  thought  I 
did.  'Twas  the  keeper.  Well,  in  some  ways  he 
looked  his  job. 

44  O— oh!  "  says  I.  "  All  right.  Yes,  yes.  I 
heard  you  was  coming,  Mr. — Mr. " 

14  'Opper,"  says  he;  "  James  'Opper." 

44  Proud  to  know  you,  Mr.  Opper,"  says  I, 
which  was  a  lie,  I'm  afraid. 

44  Not  Hopper,"  he  says.    "  'Opper." 

44  Sure !    Opper's  what  I  said,"  says  I. 

He  got  red  in  the  face.  "  'Opper,"  he  says. 
44  Haitch — o-p-p-e-r." 


*4  MR.  PRATT, 

"Oh,  Hopper!"  I  says. 

"  Of  course.    'Opper,"  he  says. 

I  felt  as  if  I'd  been  sailing  a  race  and  had  made 
a  lap  and  got  back  to  the  starting  buoy. 

"  All  right,"  says  I.  "  What's  an  H  or  two  be- 
tween friends?  How's  your  patients,  Mr.  Opper 
Hopper?" 

"  Look  'ere,  my  fine  feller,"  he  says.  "  You're 
too  fresh.  For  a  'a-penny  Vd  come  down  and  put 
a  'ead  on  you." 

And  right  then  I  give  up  the  idea  that  he  was  a 
retired  parson.    Parsons  don'';  talk  like  that. 

"  You  would?  "  says  I.  "  Well,  you  go  on  put- 
ting '  'eads  '  on  the  poor  lunatios  you  have  to  take 
care  of  and  don't  try  any  of  ycur  asylum  games 
with  me.  'Twould  be  safer  for  you  and  wouldn't 
interfere  with  my  work.    What  do  you  want?  " 

"  I'm  Mr.  Edward  Van  Brunt's  vally— "  he 
says — "  'is  man-servant;  and  'e  'as  ordered  you 
to " 

"His  man-servant!"  I  sung  out,  setting  up 
straight. 

"Of  course.  Didn't  I  says  so?  His  vally* 
and " 

Well,  I'd  made  a  mistake,  I  judged.  If  he  was 
a  servant  he  couldn't  be  the  keeper.     I  ca'lated 


THE  MAN  25 

'twas  best  to  be  a  little  more  sociable.  Besides,  I 
was  curious. 

"Humph!  "  says  I.  "  I  guess  I'd  ought  to  beg 
your  pardon,  Mr.  Opper " 

"  'Opper !  "  he  fairly  hollered  it. 

"  All  right.  Never  mind.  Come  on  aboard 
and  let's  talk  it  over." 

So  aboard  he  come,  making  a  land-lubber's  job 
of  it,  and  come  to  anchor  on  the  bench  in  the 
cockpit,  setting  up  as  stiff  and  straight  as  if  he'd 
swallowed  a  marlin-spike.  Then  we  commenced 
to  talk,  me  dropping  a  question  every  once  in 
awhile,  and  him  dropping  h's  like  he  was  feeding 
'em  to  the  hens. 

11  What  kind  of  a  servant  did  you  say  you  was?  " 
says  I,  breaking  the  ice. 

"  A  vally,  Mr.  Edward's  vally." 

"Vally,  hey?"  says  I.  "Vally!  Hum!  I 
want  to  know !  " 

I  guess  he  see  I  was  out  of  soundings,  so  he  con- 
descends to  do  some  spelling  for  me. 

"  V-a-1-e-t,"  says  he.    "  Vally." 

"Oh!  "says  I.    "Avallet.    Yes,  yes;  I  see." 

I  knew  what  a  vallet  was — I'd  read  about  'em 
in  the  papers — but  this  feller's  calling  it  a  "  vally  " 
put  me  off  the  course.    He  was  nothing  but  a  for- 


26  MR.  PRATT 

eigner,  though,  so  I  made  allowances.  I  give  him 
a  cigar  that  I  bought  at  the  grocery  store  on  the 
way  down,  and  we  lit  up.  Then  he  commenced  to 
tell  about  himself  and  how  he  used  to  work  for  a 
lord  once  over  in  England.  According  to  his  tell 
England  was  next  door  to  Paradise  and  the 
United  States  a  little  worse  than  the  other  place. 
44  Gawd  forsaken  "  was  the  best  word  he  had  for 
Yankeeland. 

44  I  suppose  you'll  quit  when  the  keeper  comes," 
says  I. 

14  Keeper?  "  says  he.    "  Wat  keeper?  " 

41  Why,  the  feller  from  the  asylum.  How  long 
has  your  boss  and  his  messmate  been  crazy?"  I 
asks. 

11  Crazy?  "  he  says.  "  Crazy?  Wat  do  you 
mean?  " 

44  Look  here,"  says  I.  "  You  tell  me  straight. 
Ain't  Van  Brunt  and  Hartley  out  of  their  heads?  " 

44  Out  of  their  'eads?  'Eavens,  no!  "  He  was 
so  upset  that  he  couldn't  hardly  speak  for  a  minute. 
Then  he  commenced  to  tell  about  the  Heavenlies, 
and  'twa'n't  long  afore  I  begun  to  see  that  'twas 
Nate  Scudder  and  me  that  needed  a  keeper;  we 
was  the  biggest  loons  in  the  crowd. 

Seems  that  the  Twins  was  rich  New  Yorkers — - 


THE  MAN.  27 

the  richest  and  high-tonedest  kind.  Both  of  'em 
had  money  by  the  bucket  and  more  being  left  to 
'em  while  you  wait.  They  lived  on  some  Avenue 
with  a  number  to  it  and  they  done  business  in  the 
"  Street,"  meaning  that  they  dickered  in  bonds  and 
such  things,  I  gathered.  Also  I  gathered  they 
didn't  have  to  work  overtime. 

"  But,  if  they  ain't  crazy  what  made  'em  come 
down  here  to  live?  "  says  I,  "  at  Nate  Scudder's?  " 

Well,  that  was  a  kind  of  poser,  even  for  Mr. 
James  Opper  Hopper  Know-it-All.  He  com- 
menced to  tell  about  society  and  pink  teas — I  guess 
'twas  pink ;  might  have  been  sky-blue  though — and 
races  and  opera  parties  and  stocks,  and  "  strenuous 
life  "  and  the  land  knows  what.  It  seemed  to  sim- 
mer down  finally  to  that  book  "  The  Natural 
Life."  Seems  there  was  a  kind  of  craze  around 
New  York  and  the  cities,  stirred  up  by  that  book, 
to  get  clear  of  luxury  and  comfort  and  good  times 
and  so  on,  and  get  to  living  like  poor  folks.  Liv- 
ing the  "  Natural  Life,"  the  valet  called  it. 

"  So?  "  says  I,  thinking  of  how  I  had  to  scratch 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  "  I've  been  right 
in  style  all  my  days  and  didn't  know  it.  Hum! 
going  cranberrying  and  fishing  and  clamming  and 
taking  gangs  of  summer  folks  out  on  seasick  par- 


28  MR.  PRATT 

ties  is  the  proper  thing,  hey?  And  your  boss  and 
his  chum  want  to  live  simple?  " 

Yes,  he  said  they  wanted  to  live  real  simple. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  if  Huldy  Ann  Scudder  cooks 
for  'em  that's  the  way  they'll  live." 

He  went  on  with  another  rigmarole  about  how 
the  Heavenlies  had  lived  in  New  York.  Cutting 
©ut  everything  about  himself  and  that  British  lord 
' — which  was  two-thirds  of  the  yarn — there  was 
some  stuff  about  a  girl  named  Page  that  interested 
me.  Seems  she  was  the  real  thing  in  society,  too. 
Had  money  and  good  looks  and  fine  clothes — all 
the  strenuous  nuisances.  And  she  was  engaged 
to  Hartley  once,  but  they  had  a  row  or  something 
and  broke  it  off.  And  now  she  was  engaged  to 
Van  Brunt. 

"  But,  see  here,"  I  says,  puzzled.  "  If  she's 
engaged  to  Van  why  ain't  he  to  home  courting  her 
instead  of  dissipating  on  baked  beans  and  thin 
feather  beds  over  to  Scudder's?  Why  ain't  he  to 
home  in  New  York  getting  ready  to  be  married?  " 

Well,  the  marriage,  so  James  said,  was  to  be 
arranged  later.  Near  as  I  could  find  out  Van  and 
this  Agnes  Page  had  mighty  little  to  do  with  the 
marrying.  'Twas  their  folks  that  was  fixing  that 
up.    Agnes  herself  had  gone  to  Europe  with  her 


THE  MAN  29 

ma.  When  she  was  to  home  she  was  great  on. 
charity.  She  done  settlement  work,  whatever  that 
is,  and  her  one  idea  in  life  was  to  feed  ice  cream; 
to  children  that  hankered  for  fishballs  and  brown; 
bread.  This  wa'n't  exactly  the  way  Lord  James 
give  it  out,  but  'twas  about  the  sense  of  it. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  says  I.  "  But  how  does  Hartley 
like  chumming  around  with  the  feller  that's  going 
to  marry  his  old  girl?  " 

It  appeared  that  that  was  all  right.  Hartley 
and  Van  was  chums ;  loved  each  other  like  brothers 
— or  better.  Little  thing  like  a  girl  or  two  didn't 
count.  Hartley  was  kind  of  used  up  and  blue  and 
down  on  his  luck  and  suffering  from  the  Natural 
Life  disease;  he  wanted  to  cut  for  simplicity  and 
Nature.  So  Van,  havin'  a  touch  of  the  Natural 
himself,  come  along  to  keep  him  company. 

11  But  this  Page  girl?  "  says  I.  "  How  does  she 
feel  on  the  Natural  Life  question  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  believes  in  it  too,"  says  his  Lordship. 
"  Only  she's  more  interested  in  'er  charity  and 
'elping  the  poor  and  heducating  'em,"  says  he. 

I  fetched  a  long  breath.  "  Well,  Mr.  Opper — • 
Hopper  I  mean — "  I  says,  "  you  can  say  what 
you  want  to,  but  I'll  still  hang  on  to  my  first  notion. 
/  think  the  whole  crew  is  stark,  raving  crazy." 


3o  MR,  PRATT, 

I'd  noticed  that  he  hadn't  been  pulling  at  my 
cigar  much — a  good  five-cent  Bluebell  cigar  'twas 
too.  Now  he  put  it  down,  kind  of  like  'twas 
loaded. 

"  My  good  feller,"  he  says.  "  Would  you  mind 
if  I  tried  one  of  me  own  weeds?  'Ave  one  your- 
self," says  he. 

I  took  the  cigar  he  handed  me.  It  was  one  of 
Van  Brunt's  particular  brand. 

II  Humph !  "  thinks  I,  "  your  bosses  may  be  sim- 
pletons for  the  love  of  it,  Brother  James,  but  not 
you.  No,  sir-ee!  You're  in  it  for  the  value  of 
the  manifest." 

In  another  half  hour  or  so  the  Heavenly  Twins 
showed  up  alongside.  And  then  'twould  have  done 
you  good  to  see  that  valet's  back  get  limber.  He 
bowed  and  scraped  and  "  Sirred  "  till  you  couldn't 
rest.  They  spoke  to  him  like  he  was  a  dog  and  he 
skipped  around  with  his  tail  between  his  legs  like 
he  was  one — a  yellow  one,  at  that. 

When  we'd  passed  the  point  out  comes  that  ever- 
lasting book  and  the  Twins  got  at  it. 

"  Van,"  says  Martin  Hartley,  setting  up  and 
taking  notice;  "the  Natural  Life  for  mine.  I 
envy  the  lucky  devils  who've  had  it  all  their 
lives.  " 


THE  MAN  jl 

'Twa'n't  none  of  my  affairs,  but  I  shoved  my  oar 
in  here — couldn't  help  it. 

"  You  fellers  ain't  getting  the  real  article — not 
yet,"  says  I.  "  There's  a  hotel  over  back  of  the 
Village  where  the  boarders  get  the  ginuine  simple 
life — no  frills  included,"  I  says. 

They  was  interested  right  off. 

"Where's  that,  skipper?"  says  Van  Brunt. 
"What's  its  name?" 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  folks  round  here  call  it  the 
poorhouse." 

Then  they  both  laughed.  Good  nice  fellers,  as 
I  said  afore,  even  if  they  was  crazy. 


CHAPTER    III 
\T00  MANY  COOKS 

IT  was  a  day  or  so  after  that  that  I  see  Nate 
Scudder  again.  I'd  been  out  in  the  sloop 
with  a  parcel  of  boarders — they  were  begin- 
ning to  get  thicker  at  the  Old  Home  now,  same  as 
the  mosquitoes — and  on  my  way  home  I  met  Nate 
driving  down  the  Neck  Road.  He  was  in  the 
carryall  and  I  hailed  him  as  he  come  abreast  of 
me. 

"  Hello,  Nate  I ,:  I  says.  "  Taking  the  air,  are 
you?" 

He  pulled  up  his  horse — it  didn't  take  a  hard 
pull — and,  while  the  critter  leaned  up  against  the 
shafts  and  took  a  nap,  Nate  talked  to  me.  It 
appeared  that  there'd  been  more  or  less  trouble 
down  his  way.  Huldy  Ann  and  Lord  James 
hadn't  agreed  any  too  well. 

"  You  see,"  says  Nate,  taking  a  calico  handker- 
chief out  of  his  hat  and  swabbing  his  bald  head 
with  it,  "  it's  that  valet  feller — he's  too  stuck-up 
to  live." 

3a 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  33 

I  wa'n't  going  to  fight  with  him  on  that  point, 
so  he  went  ahead  with  his  yarn. 

"  He  come  parading  out  to  the  barn,"  says  Nate, 
"  and  give  out  that  he'd  been  appointed  cook  in 
Huldy  Ann's  place.  Well,  she'd  been  sort  of  lay- 
ing herself  out,  as  you  might  say,  to  please  them 
two  up  at  the  house — giving  'em  spider  bread  and 
dried  apple  pie  for  breakfast,  and  the  like  of  that — 
and  it  riled  her  to  be  chucked  overboard  that  way. 
So  she  got  sort  of  sarcastic.  That  Opper  man, 
he " 

"  His  name's  Hopper,"  I  says. 

"  He  don't  call  it  so,  then." 

"  That's  all  right.  Him  and  I  had  a  spell- 
ing match  here  t'other  day  and  Hopper  it  is,"  I 
says. 

"  Well,  then,  this  Hopper  feller  he  lorded  it 
round,  asking  where  the  double  biler  was  and 
complaining  that  he  couldn't  cook  steak  without  a 
charcoal  fire,  and  so  on.  Huldy  took  him  down, 
I  tell  you ! 

"  '  Charcoal  your  granny!  '  says  she.  '  I've 
fried  more  steak  than  you've  got  hairs  on  your 
head,  and  a  plain  wood  fire  always  done  me,'  she 
says. 

II  He  cooked  that  steak,  and  say!     I'll  bet  the 


34  MR.  PRATT 

Iron-Jawed  Man  I  see  once  at  a  dime  show  up  to 
Boston  couldn't  have  got  away  with  it.  Tough! 
Why,  the  pesky  idiot  never  pounded  it  a  bit !  How 
do  you  expect  to  get  tender  steak  if  you  don't  pound 
it?    Hawl  haw!" 

When  he  got  through  laughing  he  went  to  say 
that  him  and  Huldy  had  decided  to  go  over  to  her 
sister's  at  Ostable  for  a  visit. 

"  We've  been  intending  to  go  for  a  good  while," 
he  says.  "  And  now  we  can  do  it  without  its  cost- 
ing much.  Pay  for  the  house  goes  on  whether 
we're  there  or  not,  and  the  railroad  fare'll  be  more 
than  made  up  by  the  saving  in  our  own  grub.  I'm 
a  peaceable  feller,  anyhow,"  says  he,  "  and  there'd 
be  no  peace  while  Huldy  and  that  Britisher  was 
together." 

"  Case  of  too  many  cooks  spoiling  the  soup, 
hey?  "  says  I. 

"  Soup !  "  he  says.  "  Well,  you  wait  a  lit- 
tle spell.  If  they  ain't  chasing  around  after  a 
new  cook  inside  of  a  week  I'm  a  Jonah,  that's 
all." 

He  was  right.  Couple  of  days  later  I  heard 
from  Emmie  T.  that  the  Twins  had  hired  Hannah 
Jane  Purvis  to  do  the  cooking  for  'em.  Han- 
nah Jane's  late  lamented  had  been  cook  on   a 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  35 

Banks  boat  when  he  was  young,  so  I  suppose  she 
cal'lated  she'd  inherited  the  knack.  But  I  had  my 
doubts. 

I  was  getting  real  chummy  with  the  Heavenlies 
by  this  time,  so  one  afternoon  I  walked  up  to  the 
Scudder  place  to  see  'em.  They  were  sprawled 
out  on  the  piazza  chairs  with  their  feet  on  the  rail- 
ing and  they  hailed  me  as  friendly  as  if  I  was  rich 
as  they  was,  instead  of  being  poorer  than  Job's 
turkey.  I  noticed  Lord  James  tiptoeing  around  in 
the  parlor,  so  I  naturally  mentioned  him. 

"Your  valet  man,  here,"  I  says;  "he  wa'n't 
quite  to  the  skipper's  taste  as  cook,  hey?  " 

They  both  laughed,  Van  Brunt  with  his  big 
good-natured  "  Ha,  ha !  "  and  Hartley  with  that 
quiet  chuckle  of  his. 

"  James,"  said  Van,  "  is  a  glittering  success  in 
the  wardrobe,  but  he  dislikes  to  hide  his  talents  un- 
der a  kitchen  bushel." 

"  James,"  said  Hartley,  "  appears  to  apply  the 
same  methods  to  trousers  and  steak." 

"  Presses  both  of  'em,  don't  he?  "  I  says,  think- 
ing of  Scudder's  yarn. 

"  Flat  as  a  board,"  says  Van.  "  Besides  which, 
this  is  supposed  to  be  a  pleasure  cruise  for  Martin 
and  me,  and  James  serves  with  the  cheerful  dignity 


36  MR.  PRATT 

of  an  undertaker.  He's  too  complex;  we  yearn 
for  simplicity  and  rest." 

I  grinned.  "  Well,  you've  got  the  simplicity 
with  Hannah,  ain't  you?  "  I  asked.  "  I  ain't  say- 
ing nothing  about  the  rest." 

Both  of  'em  groaned.  I  knew  Hannah  Jane 
Purvis,  and  she  had  the  name  of  talking  the 
hinges  off  a  barn  door. 

"Lord!"  says  Van.  "Let's  change  the  sub- 
ject. By  the  way,  Martin;  it's  odd  that  Agnes 
hasn't  written." 

Hartley  was  setting  out  towards  the  front  of 
the  porch  where  the  sun  could  get  at  him.  Now  he 
shifted  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  vines. 

"  Is  it  time  for  a  letter  to  reach  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  yes.  I  should  think  so.  She  was  to 
reach  New  York  on  the  first  and  sail  on  that  day. 
She  would  probably  write  on  the  steamer.  It  was 
a  fast  boat  and,  allowing  that  the  letter  came  back 
immediately — well,  I  don't  know  that  it  is  time 
yet." 

He  began  to  whistle.  I  gathered  that,  'twas  the 
Page  girl  he  was  talking  about.  The  valet  had 
told  about  her  going  on  a  trip  to  Europe.  But  it 
struck  me  that,  for  an  engaged  man,  Van  Brunt 
was  the  easiest  in  his  mind  of  anybody  ever  I  see. 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  37 

I've  never  been  engaged  myself,  but  judging  by 
them  I've  known  who  was,  he'd  ought  to  be  shoot- 
ing telegrams  to  Europe  faster  than  you  could 
shake  'em  out  of  a  pepper  box. 

Neither  of  'em  spoke  for  a  minute.  Then  Hart- 
ley asked,  quiet  as  usual,  "  Have  you  written  her, 
Van?" 

"  Oh,  yes;  dropped  a  line  the  other  day,  telling 
her  we  were  safe  and  duly  housed  and  so  on. 
Whooped  up  the  joys  of  the  '  Natural '  and  begged 
her  to  '  go  thou  and  do  likewise.'  Which  she 
would  like  to  do,  probably,  but  which  also — if  I 
know  her  highly  respected  mamma — she  won't." 

"Where  did  you  address  your  letter?"  Hart- 
ley asks,  after  a  little. 

"  Liverpool,  care  of  her  usual  hotel.  She'll  get 
it  all  right — always  provided  she  hasn't  already 
organized  a  settlement  colony  of  small  Hooligans 
in  the  Liverpool  slums.  But  there!  Let's  forget 
morals  and  matrimony.  Heigho !  Wonder  what's 
doing  in  the  Street?    Not  that  I  care  a  red." 

They  seemed  to  have  forgot  me  altogether.  But 
I  was  interested  in  their  talk  all  the  same,  and  I've 
tried  to  put  it  down  just  as  I  heard  it.  'Twas  queer 
talk,  but  they  was  queer  folks,  and  I  was  learning 
how  the  big-bugs  done  their  courting.     From  what 


38  MR.  PRATT 

I'd  heard  so  far  I  liked  the  Wellmouth  way  full 
as  well. 

The  front  gate  clicked.  Van  Brunt  looked 
up.  "Great  Scott!"  says  he,  "it's  the  phono- 
graph." 

'Twas  Hannah  Jane  Purvis  coming  home  from 
the  next  house  with  a  dishpan  full  of  peas.  Han- 
nah was  a  kind  of,  scant  patterned  critter  without 
much  canvas  on  her  poles  and  her  sleeves  most  gen- 
erally rolled  up.  She  had  brindled  hair  clewed 
back  so  tight  off  her  forehead  that  her  eyes 
wouldn't  shut  good,  and  the  impression  you  got 
from  the  first  look  at  her  was  that  she  was  all 
square  corners — not  a  round  one  in  the  lot 

"  Well!  "  says  she,  coming  up  into  the  wind  in 
front  of  the  piazza  and  looking  at  me  hard.  "  I 
do  believe  it's  Solomon  Pratt.  Why,  what  a  stran- 
ger you  be!  I  ain't  seen  you  for  I  don't  know 
when." 

I  didn't  know  when  either  and  I  didn't  try  to 
remember.  "  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  trouble 
belonging  to  it,"  the  Scriptures  say,  if  I  recollect 
it  right,  and  'twas  enough  for  me  that  she'd  seen 
me  this  time.  She  comes  over,  dishpan  and  all, 
and  planks  herself  down  on  the  steps  right  in  front 
of  Van  Brunt's  chair.     There  ain't  nothing  shy 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  39 

or  unfriendly  about  Hannah  Jane;  she's  the  most 
folksy  female  I  ever  come  across,  and  always 
was. 

"  My  sakes !  "  says  she,  turning  round  to  Van, 
"  I  see  Mr.  Pratt  come  in  here  and  I  couldn't  make 
out  who  'twas.  Thinks  I,  '  They've  got  company 
and  I  must  get  there  quick.'  So  back  I  put,  and  I 
don't  know  as  I've  got  a  full  measure  of  peas  'cause 
it  seemed  to  me  that  some  of  'em  spilled  off  the  top 
when  Cap'n  Poundberry  was  emptyin'  'em  in.  I 
hope  not,  'cause  peas  is  high  now.  Not  that  it 
makes  any  difference  to  well-off  folks  like  you,  Mr. 
Van  Brunt,  but " 

11  Hadn't  you  better  go  back  and  pick  'em  up?  " 
asks  Van,  solemn  as  an  owl. 

11  Oh,  land  of  love !  no.  There  wa'n't  enough 
for  that.  Besides  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Pratt.  Well, 
Mr.  Pratt,"  says  she.  "I  suppose  you're  surprised 
enough  to  find  me  working  out.  Dear!  dear!  I 
don't  know  what  Jehiel — he  that  was  my  first  hus- 
band— would  have  said;  nor  my  second  one 
neither.  But  there !  we  can't  none  of  us  never  tell 
what's  in  store  for  us  in  this  world,  can  we?" 

I  made  some  sort  of  answer ;  don't  matter  what. 
She  went  ahead  lamenting  over  what  a  come-down 
'twas  for  her  to  work  out.    You'd  think  she'd  been 


4o  MR.  PRATT 

used  to  marble  halls  to  hear  her.  She  settles  the 
dishpan  between  her  knees  and  starts  in  shelling 
peas,  talking  a  blue  streak  all  the  time.  She  was 
a  whole  sewing  circle  in  herself,  that  woman. 

"  Jehiel  was  such  a  quiet  man,"  she  says,  after 
a  spell.  "He  scarcely  ever  talked."  (Didn't 
have  a  chance,  thinks  I  to  myself.)  "When  he 
died — did  I  ever  tell  you  how  Cap'n  Samuels — my 
first  husband  as  was — come  to  die,  Mr.  Hartley?  " 
says  she. 

Hartley  had  took  up  the  Natural  Life  book 
and  was  trying  to  read  it.  Now  he  looked  up  and 
says,  mournful  but  resigned,  "  No,  Mrs.  Purvis, 
I  believe  we  have  never  had  the  pleasure." 

"  The  pleasure  was  wholly  the  Cap'n's,"  says 
Van  Brunt  under  his  breath.  If  Hannah  Jane 
heard  him  she  didn't  let  it  worry  her. 

"Well,"  she  says,  "'twas  this  way:  Captain 
Jehiel — him  that  was  my  first  husband — was  the 
most  regular  man  in  his  habits  that  ever  was,  I 
guess.  Every  Saturday  night  all  the  time  we  was 
married — and  we  was  married  eleven  year,  not 
counting  the  two  after  he  was  took  sick — he  al- 
ways had  baked  beans  for  supper.  I  used  to  say 
to  him,  '  Jehiel,'  I  used  to  say,  '  ain't  you  tired  of 
baked  beans?     I   should  think  you'd  turn   into 


TOO  MANY.  COOKS  41 

beans,  you're  so  fond  of  'em.'  But  he  never  did 
and " 

She  stopped  for  a  second  to  get  her  breath.  Van 
cut  in  quick. 

"That  wasn't  the  cause  of  his  death,  then?" 
he  asks,  very  grave. 

"Who— what?" 

"Turning  into  beans?  Of  course  not.  I  be- 
lieve you  said  he  didn't  turn." 

"  I  said  he  never  got  tired  of  'em.  Course  he 
didn't  turn  into  'em.  Whoever  heard  of  such  a 
thing?  Well,  as  I  was  saying;  every  Saturday 
night  we  had  'em,  and  one  night — 'twas  the  last 
one,  poor  thing — "  She  stopped  to  unfurl  her 
handkerchief  and  mop  her  eyes. 

"  Pray  go  on,  Mrs.  Purvis,"  says  Van,  very 
polite.  "  You  were  saying  'twas  the  last  bean " 

"  I  said  'twas  his  last  well  night.  There  was 
beans  enough,  land  knows !  Well,  I  had  'em  on 
the  table  and  he  set  down.  '  Hannah,'  says  he,  '  I 
don't  feel  like  beans  to-night.'  I  looked  at  him. 
It  wa'n't  because  they  wa'n't  good  beans.  I'm 
always  as  particular  as  can  be  about  cooking  beans. 
Always  put  such  to  soak  over  night  on  a  Friday, 
and  then  Saturday  morning  I  take  'em  and  put  'em 
in  the  bean-pot  along  with  some  molasses  and  a 


42  MR.  PRATT 

nice  chunk  of  pork.  You  can't  be  too  particular 
about  your  pork.  '  Don't,'  I  used  to  say  to  the 
man  that  drove  the  butcher  cart;  '  don't,'  says  I, 
1  give  me  nothing  but  fat  pork.  Might's  well 
have  plain  lard  and  be  done  with  it.  Give  me,' 
says  I,  '  a  streaked  chunk ;  streak  of  lean  and  a 
streak  of  fat.'  Then  I  put  'em  in  the  oven  and 
bake  'em  all  day  and  by  night  they're  ready.  So 
when  Jehiel  says  to  me,  '  Hannah,  I  don't  feel 
like  beans,'  I  set  and  looked  at  him." 

"  Did  he  look  like  'em?  "  asks  Van. 

Hannah  Jane  switched  round  on  the  step  and 
stared  at  him.  But  he  was  as  sober  as  a  church 
and  just  running  over  with  sympathy,  seemed  so,  so 
she  sniffed  and  went  on. 

"  He  looked  sick'*  she  says,  "  and  I  could  see 
that  he  was  sick  too.  So  I  got  him  to  bed  and  what 
a  night  I  put  in!  Oh,  the  hot  jugs  to  his  feet! 
Oh,  the  running  for  the  doctor!  We  had  Dr. 
Blake  here  then,  Mr.  Pratt.  You  remember  him, 
don't  you?  Great  big  tall  man  with  gray  whis- 
kers. No,  wait  a  minute.  'Twas  Dr.  White  that 
had  the  whiskers;  Dr.  Blake  was  smooth-faced. 
No,  seems  to  me  he  had  a  mustache.  I  remember 
he  did  because  he  was  engaged  to  Emma  Baker's 
sister's  girl  and  she  used  to  say  that  when  she  once 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  43 

got  him  for  good  he'd  have  to  raise  more  beard 
than  that.  She  said  a  doctor  without  a  beard  was 
like  a  soft  biled  egg  without — without — without 
something  or  'nother  in  it.  Strange  I  can't  think ! 
An  egg  without  something  in  it " 

"  Chicken,  possibly,"  suggests  Van. 

11  No,  indeed.  Salt !  that's  what  'twas.  A  soft 
biled  egg  without  salt  in  it.  Now  you'd  ought  to 
be  as  careful  about  biling  eggs  as  you  had  about 
anything  else.  Way  some  folks  bile  eggs  is  a  sin 
and  shame.  I've  et  eggs  so  hard  that  you  could 
build  a  stone  wall  out  of  'em,  seems  so;  and  then 
again  I've  et  'em  when  I've  actually  had  to  drink 
'em.  Now  when  /  bile  eggs  I  always — let  me  see ; 
I  wa'n't  speaking  of  eggs  when  I  fust  started. 
Where  was  I? •" 

"  You  were  telling  us  about  beans,  I  believe, 
Mrs.  Purvis,"  purrs  Van  again,  sweet  and  buttery 
as  can  be.  "I  seem  to  have  a  dim  recollection  of 
beans,  Mrs.  P." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes !  I  was  going  on  to  tell  of  Jehiel's 
sufiferrn's,  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  If  I  could  only  begin 
to  give  you  an  idea  of  that  poor  critter's  agony. 
Why,  he — who's  that  at  the  back  door?" 

'Twas  the  neighbor's  boy,  as  it  turned  out,  come 
to  borrow  a  cupful  of  sugar,  but  he  took  Hannah 


44  MR.  PRATT 

Jane  away  from  us,  which  was  a  mercy.  She 
dropped  the  dishpan  and  went  inside. 

Van  Brunt  looked  after  her.  "  Will  some  one 
please  inform  me,"  says  he,  "  whether  I've  been 
at  a  clinic,  or  a  funeral,  or  just  a  cooking-school 
session?  " 

"Humph!"  says  Hartley.  "Unfortunate  in- 
terruption. Now  we  shan't  learn  what  became  of 
the  long-suffering  Jehiel." 

"  Oh,  he  died,"  says  Van.  "  /  wanted  to  find 
out  what  became  of  those  beans." 

"  I  understand  now  why  they  put '  At  Rest '  on 
Jehiel's  gravestone,"  I  says. 

Hartley  turned  to  me.  "  Skipper,"  he  says, 
"  you  mustn't  think  that  Van  and  I  are  altogether 
cold-blooded  because  we  refuse  to  weep  over  the 
departed  Samuels.  The  lady  has  cheered  us  with 
happy  little  memories  of  this  kind  ever  since  she 
agreed  to  demean  herself  and  make  *  riz  biscuit  * 
at  four-fifty  per.  She  began  with  her  cousin,  who 
died  of  small-pox,  and  she's  worked  down  through 
the  family  till  she's  got  to  her  husband." 

"  Yes,"  says  Van,  "  and  he's  only  her  first.  We 
shall  hear  later  how  Number  Two  fell  into  a  stone- 
crusher  or  was  boiled  in  oil.    Lord !  " 

"  Hank  Purvis  had  five  brothers,"  says  I;  "  and 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  45 

they've  all  died  within  the  last  ten  year.  You've 
got  more  funerals  coming  to  you." 

It  was  quiet  for  a  few  minutes.  Out  back 
we  could  hear  Hannah  Jane  laying  into  the  neigh- 
bor's boy  because  he  tracked  mud  on  the  kitchen 
floor. 

"  It  was  no  use,"  says  Van,  decided.  "  I  refuse 
to  renew  my  subscription  to  The  Daily  Morgue. 
All  those  in  favor  of  parting  with  the  Widow  Pur- 
vis at  once,  immediate,  P.  D.  Q.,  will  say  *  Aye.' 
Contrary  minded,  '  No.'  It's  a  vote.  Hannah  is 
erased.  What  shall  we  do,  Martin — go  back  to 
James  and  dignity,  or  feed  ourselves  ?  " 

Hartley  seemed  to  be  thinking.  "  Skipper," 
says  he  to  me,  "  you  can  cook.  I — even  I,  the  in- 
teresting invalid — can  eat  your  chowder  and  like  it 
and  come  back  for  more.  Will  you  come  and  help 
us  out?    What  do  you  say?  " 

Van  Brunt  sat  up  straight.  "  Martin,"  says 
he,  "  you're  as  comforting  as  the  shadow  of  a  great 
rock  in  a — in  a — something  or  other.  You're  a 
genius.  Pratt,  you've  got  to  come  here  and  live 
with  us.  We  need  thee  every  hour,  as  Mrs.  P. 
sings  at  five  a.m.,  which  is  her  ungodly  time  for 
getting  out  of  bed.    It's  settled ;  you're  coming." 

"Well,  now;  hold  on,"  says  I.     "Some  ways 


46  MR.  PRATT 

I'd  like  to,  and,  if  you  want  plain  cooking,  why,  I 
guess  likely  I  can  give  it  to  you.  But  business  is 
business  and  there's  my  boat  and  my  living  for  the 
summer.  You're  here  only  a  month,  as  I  under- 
stand it,  and " 

That  didn't  make  no  difference.  I  could  fetch 
the  Dora  Bassett  along  too,  Van  said.  Hartley 
explained  that  they  intended  to  stay  through  the 
summer,  anyhow,  perhaps  later.  He  went  on  to 
tell  that  he  and  his  chum  was  what  he  called  "re- 
deemed conventionalities,"  or  some  such  name,  and 
that  they  intended  to  stay  redeemed.  They'd 
hitched  horses  and  agreed  to  find  the  Natural 
in  all  its  glory.  And  the  Natural  they  was  going 
to  find  if  it  took  a  thousand  year. 

"  And  while  we're  giving  you  the  story  of  our 
lives,  skipper,"  says  Hartley,  with  one  of  his  half 
smiles,  "  I  want  to  say  right  here  that  our  present 
surroundings  aren't  all  that  fancy  painted  'em. 
They're  too  much  in  the  lime  light."  This  was 
just  one  of  his  crazy  ways  of  saying  things ;  I  was 
getting  used  to  'em  a  little  by  now.  "  We're  too 
prominent,"  he  says.  "The  populace  are  too 
friendly  and  interested." 

"  Also,"  says  Van,  "  the  select  bunch  of  femi- 
nines  from  the  hotel  have  taken  to  making  our 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  47 

front  walk  a  sort  of  promenade.  Martin  and  I  are 
naturally  shy;  we  pine  for  solitude." 

There  was  more  of  this,  but  I  managed  to  find 
out  that  what  they  wanted  was  a  quieter  place  than 
Scudder's.  A  place  off  by  itself,  where  they  could 
be  as  natural  as  a  picked  chicken.  I  agreed  to  try 
and  help  Vm  find  such  a  place.  And  I  said,  too, 
that  I'd  thvnk  about  the  cooking  idea.  Money 
didn't  seem  to  be  no  object — I  could  have  my 
wages  by  tha  hod  or  barrelful — just  as  I  see  fit. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  getting  up  to  go.  "  I'll  see. 
Let  me  sleep  on  it  for  a  spell,  same's  you  fellers 
have  done  on  Nate's  pin-feather  beds.  But  I  ain't 
so  sure  about  your  staying  all  summer.  How  about 
that  young  lady  friend  of  yours,  Mr.  Van  Brunt? 
She  may  take  a  notion  to  send  for  you  to  introduce 
her  to  the  King  of  Chiny  or  the  Grand  Panjandrum 
with  the  little  round  bottom  on  top.  Then  you'd 
have  to  pack  up  and  cut  your  cable." 

Van,  he  looked  hard  at  me  for  a  minute.  I 
thought  first  he  was  mad  at  me  for  putting  my  oar 
in  where  it  wa'n't  supposed  to  be.  Then  he 
laughed.  "  Sol,"  says  he,  "  that  young  lady  and  I 
are  kindred  spirits.  For  a  year  I'm  natural  and 
happy,  and  she  can  nurse  her  Hooligans  and  go  on 
charity  sprees.    Then — well,  then  we  fall  back  on 


48  MR.  PRATT, 

our  respected  parents  and  wedded-^-er — bliss. 
Hey,  Martin?" 

Hartley,  in  the  shadow  of  the  vines,  lit  another 
cigar  and  nodded.    But  he  didn't  say  nothing. 

For  the  next  three  or  four  days  I  chased  around 
trying  to  find  a  house  and  lot  where  them  Heavenly 
lunatics  could  be  natural.  I  located  a  couple  of 
bully  summer  places,  all  trees  and  windmills  and 
posy  beds  and  hot  and  cold  water  and  land  knows 
what.  But  they  wouldn't  do;  they  "smelled  of 
coupons,"  Van  said.  What  they  really  wanted, 
or  thought  they  wanted,  was  a  state's  prison  in  a 
desert,  I  judged. 

For  a  week  or  ten  days  we  kept  the  hunt  up,  but 
didn't  have  no  luck.  Whenever  I'd  think  I'd  un- 
covered a  promising  outfit  the  Heavenlies  would 
turn  to  and  dump  in  a  cargo  of  objections  and  bury 
it  again.  After  five  or  six  funerals  of  this  kind  I 
got  sort  of  tired  and  quit.  It  got  to  be  July  and 
their  month  at  Nate's  was  'most  over.  I  was  up 
there  the  evening  of  the  Third  and  I  happened  to 
ask  'em  if  they  wanted  me  and  the  sloop  for  the 
next  day.  There  was  to  be  a  Fourth  of  July  cele- 
bration over  to  Eastwich,  and  some  of  the  boarders 
wanted  to  go  and  see  the  balloon  and  the  races  and 
the  greased  pig  chase,  and  such  like.    If  the  Twins 


TOO  MANY  COOKS  49 

didn't  care  I'd  take  the  job,  I  said.  But  they  took 
a  notion  to  go  themselves.  Van  said  'twould  be  an 
excuse  for  me  to  give  'em  another  chowder,  if 
nothing  more.  So,  on  the  morning  of  the  Fourth 
we  started,  me  and  Van  Brunt  and  Hartley  and 
Lord  James,  in  the  Dora  Bassett.  Talk  about 
cruises !  If  I'd  known — and  yet  out  of  it  come — 
But  there !  let  me  tell  you  about  it. 


CHAPTER    IV 
THE  PIG  RACE 

I  DON'T  cal'late  that  I  ever  had  a  better  run 
down  the  bay  than  I  done  that  morning. 
'Twas  a  fair  wind,  and  a  smooth  sea,  not  the 
slick,  greasy  kind,  but  with  little  blue  waves  chas- 
ing each  other  and  going  "  Spat !  spat !  "  under  the 
Dora  Basserfs  quarter  as  she  danced  over  'em. 
And  that's  just  what  she  did — dance.  There 
wa'n't  any  hog-wallowing  for  her;  she  just  picked 
up  her  skirts,  so  to  speak,  and  tripped  along — 
towing  the  little  landing  skiff  astern  of  her — like 
a  sixteen-year-old  girl  going  to  a  surprise  party. 
An  early  July  morning  on  the  bay  down  our  way 
is  good  enough  for  yours  truly,  Solomon  Pratt. 
Take  it  with  the  wind  and  water  like  I've  said; 
with  the  salt  smell  from  the  marshes  drifting  out 
from  the  shore,  mixed  up  with  the  smell  of  the 
pitch-pines  on  the  bluffs,  and  me  in  the  stern  of  a 
good  boat  with  the  tiller  in  my  hand  and  a  pipe  in 
my  face — well,  all  right !  That's  my  natural  life ; 
and  I  don't  need  no  book  to  tell  me  so,  neither. 

50 


(THE  PIG  RACE  51 

The  Heavenlies  enjoyed  it,  and  they'd  ought  to. 
'Twas  clear  then,  though  it  got  hazy  over  to  the 
east'ard  later  on.  But  then,  as  I  say,  'twas  clear, 
and  you  could  see  the  schooners  strung  out  on  the 
skyline,  some  full  up,  with  their  sails  shining  white 
in  the  sun,  and  others  down  over  the  edge,  with 
only  their  tops'ls  showing.  Far  off,  but  dead  ahead, 
just  as  if  somebody  had  dipped  their  finger  in  the 
bluing  bottle  and  smouched  it  along  the  bottom  of 
the  sky,  was  the  Wapatomac  shore,  and  away  aft, 
right  over  the  stern,  was  the  Trumet  lighthouse, 
like  a  white  chalk  mark  on  a  yellow  fence,  the  fence 
being  the  high  sand  bank  behind  it. 

The  Twins  laid  back  and  soaked  in  the  scenery. 
They  unbuttoned  their  jackets  and  took  long 
breaths.  They  actually  forgot  to  smoke,  which  was 
a  sort  of  miracle,  as  you  might  say,  and  even 
Hartley,  who  had  been  bluer  than  a  spoiled 
mackerel  all  the  morning,  braced  up  and  got  real 
chipper.  By  and  by  they  resurrected  that  book  of 
theirs  and  had  what  you  might  call  a  Natural  Life 
drunk.  I  never  see  printing  that  went  to  a  person's 
head  the  way  that  book  seemed  to  go  to  theirs.  I 
judged  'twas  kind  of  light  and  gassy  reading  and 
naturally  riz  and  filled  the  empty  places  same  as 
you'd  fill  a  balloon. 


52  MR.  PRATT. 

Everybody  was  happy  but  Lord  James,  and  I 
could  see  that  he  wa'n't  easy  in  his  mind.  He  set 
about  amidships  of  the  cockpit  and  hung  onto  the 
thwart  with  both  hands,  like  he  was  afraid  'twould 
bust  loose  and  leave  him  adrift.  If  the  Dora  Bas- 
sett  had  struck  a  derelict  or  something  and  gone 
down  sudden  I'll  bet  they'd  have  dredged  up  that 
Hopper  valet  and  the  thwart  together.  And  then 
they'd  have  had  to  pry  'em  apart.  His  Lordship 
wa'n't  used  to  water,  unless  'twas  to  mix  with  some- 
thing else. 

By  and  by  Hartley  shoves  both  hands  into  his 
pockets,  tilts  his  hat  back  and  begins  to  sing.  More 
effects  of  the  Natural  Life  spree,  I  suppose,  but 
'twas  bully  good  singing.  Might  have  been  saying 
most  anything,  calling  me  a  short  lobster  for  what 
I  know,  'cause  'twas  some  foreigner's  lingo,  but  the 
noise  was  all  right  even  if  I  did  have  to  take 
chances  on  the  words.  I  cal'late  to  know  music 
when  I  hear  it. 

"  Good !  "  says  Van,  when  his  chum  stopped. 
"  Martin,  you're  better  already.  I  haven't  heard 
you  sing  for  two  years  or  more.  The  last  time  was 
at  the  Delanceys'  '  At  Home.'  Do  you  remember 
the  Dowager  and  '  My  daughter '  ?  Heavens ! 
and  *  My  daughter's  '  piano  playing  I    Agnes  told 


THE  PIG  RACE  53 

the  Dowager  that  she  had  never  heard  anything 
like  it.  You  and  she  were  together,  you  know. 
Give  us  another  verse." 

But  Martin  wouldn't.  Shut  up  like  a  clam  and 
reached  into  his  pocket  for  a  cigar. 

"That  was  A  No.  1,  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  I. 
"  I  wish  you  could  hear  Solon  Bassett  play  the 
fiddle;  you'd  appreciate  it." 

Van  he  roared  and  even  Hartley  managed  to 
smile.  As  for  Lord  James  he  looked  at  me  like  I'd 
trod  on  the  Queen's  corns. 

Blessed  if  I  could  see  what  there  was  funny 
about  it.  Solon  can  play  like  an  Injun.  Why,  I've 
seen  him  bust  two  strings  at  a  Thanksgiving  ball 
and  then  play  "  Mrs.  McLeod's  Reel " — you 
know,  "  Buckshee,  nanny-goat,  brown  bread  and 
beans  " — on  t'other  two,  till  there  wa'n't  a  still 
foot  in  the  hall. 

We  made  Eastwich  Port  about  noon  and  had 
dinner.  I  cooked  up  a  kettle  of  chowder — fetched 
the  clams  along  with  me  from  home — and  'twould 
have  done  you  good  to  see  the  Heavenlies  lay  into 
it.  Lord  James  he  skipped  around  like  a  hopper- 
grass  in  a  hot  skillet,  fetching  glasses  and  laying 
out  nine  or  ten  different  kind  of  forks  and  spoons 
side  of  each  plate,  and  opening  wine  bottles,  and 


54  MR.  PRATT 

I  don't  know  what  all.  When  he  hove  In  sight  of 
the  wharf  that  morning  he  was  toting  a  basket 
pretty  nigh  as  big  as  he  was.  I  asked  him  what  it 
was. 

"  Why,  the  'amper,"  says  he. 

"  The  which?  "  says  I. 

"  The  lunch  'amper,  of  course,"  he  says.  "  The 
'amper  for  the  heatables." 

Well,  I  wondered  then  what  in  the  nation  was  in 
it,  for  'twas  heavier  than  lead.  I  remember  that 
the  heft  of  it  made  me  ask  him  if  he'd  fetched 
along  some  of  the  late  Hannah  Jane's  left-over  riz 
biscuit.  But  now  I  see  why  'twas  heavy.  There 
was  enough  dishes  and  truck  for  ten  men  and  the 
cook  in  that  basket.  We  had  my  chowder  and 
four  kinds  of  crackers  with  it,  and  chicken  and 
asparagus,  and  nine  sorts  of  pickles,  and  canned 
plum  pudding  with  sass,  and  coffee  and  good  loud 
healthy  cheese,  and  red  wine  and  champagne. 
When  I'd  hoisted  in  enough  of  everything  so  my 
hatches  wouldn't  shut  tight,  and  was  pulling  on 
one  of  the  Twins'  cigars,  I  says  to  Van 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  says  I,  "  is  this  part  of  what 
you  call  the  Natural  Life?  " 

"  You  bet,  skipper !  "  says  he.  He  hadn't  fin- 
ished the  chowder  end  of  the  layout  yet. 


THE  PIG  RACE  55 

Well,  I  heaved  a  sigh.  'Twas  kind  of  «wnatural 
to  me,  having  come  on  me  all  to  once;  but  I 
cal'lated  I  could  get  used  to  it  in  time  without  shed- 
ding no  tears.  Didn't  want  to  get  used  to  it  too 
quick,  neither;  I  wanted  the  novelty  to  linger 
along,  as  you  might  say. 

When  the  dinner  was  over — the  Heavenlies  was 
well  enough  acquainted  with  the  family  to  nick- 
name it  "lunch  " — I  started  in  to  help  his  lordship 
wash  dishes.  The  Twins  sprawled  themselves  un- 
der a  couple  of  pine  trees  and  blew  smoke  rings. 

"  Hurry  up  there,  messmate,"  says  I  to  the 
valet;  "  I  want  to  get  through  time  enough  to  run 
up  to  the  fair  grounds  and  see  that  greased  pig 
race." 

Hartley  had  been  keeping  so  still  I  cal'lated  he 
was  dropping  off  to  sleep,  but  it  seems  he  wa'n't. 
He  set  up,  stretched,  and  got  to  his  feet. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  skipper,"  says  he.  "  Might 
as  well  do  that  as  anything.  I've  never  seen  a 
greased  pig  race.  They  don't  have  'em  on  the 
Street." 

"  Chase  nothing  but  lambs  there,"  drawls  Van 
Brunt,  lazy,  and  with  his  eyes  half  shut.  Then 
he  turned  over  and  looked  at  his  chum. 

"Great  Caesar  1  Martin,"  he  says,  "you  don't 


56  MR.  PRATT 

mean  to  tell  me  that  you're  going  up  into  that 
crowd  of  hayseeds  to  hang  over  a  fence  and  watch 
some  one  run,  do  you?  Why  any  one  on  God's 
earth  should  want  to  run,"  he  says,  "  when  they 
can  keep  still,  is  beyond  me;  and  why  you,  of  all 
men,  should  want  to  watch  'em  do  it — that's  worse 
yet.    Come  here  and  be  natural  and  decent." 

But  Hartley  wouldn't  do  it.  His  blue  streak 
seemed  to  have  struck  in  again  and  he  was  kicking 
the  sand,  nervous-like,  with  his  foot. 

"  Come  on,  Van,"  he  says.    "  I  want  the  walk." 

"  Not  much,"  says  Van.  "  Walking's  almost  as 
bad  as  running.  I'll  be  here  when  you  get  back." 
And  he  stretched  out  on  the  pine  needles  again. 

It  may  be  that  Hartley  did  want  that  walk, 
same  as  he  said,  but  he  didn't  seem  to  get  much  fun 
out  of  it.  Went  pounding  along,  his  cigar  tipped 
up  to  the  visor  of  his  cap,  and  his  eyes  staring  at 
the  ground  all  the  time.  And  he  never  spoke  two 
words  till  we  got  to  the  fair  grounds. 

There  was  a  dickens  of  a  crowd,  five  or  six  hun- 
dred folks,  I  should  think,  and  more  coming  all  the 
time.  Everybody  that  could  come  had  borrowed 
the  horses  and  carryalls  of  them  that  couldn't  and 
had  brought  their  wives  and  mothers-in-law  and 
their  children's  children  unto  the  third  and  fourth 


THE  PIG  RACE  57 

generation.  There  was  considerable  many  sum- 
mer folks — not  so  many  as  there  is  at  the  cattle 
show  in  August — but  a  good  many,  just  the  same. 
I  counted  five  automobiles,  and  I  see  the  Barry 
folks  from  Trumet  riding  round  in  their  four- 
horse  coach  and  putting  on  airs  enough  to  make 
'em  lop-sided. 

Hartley  gave  one  look  around  at  the  gang  and 
his  nose  turned  up  to  twelve  o'clock. 

"  Gad  I  "  says  he,  "  this,  or  something  like  it,  is 
what  I've  been  trying  to  get  away  from.  Come  on, 
Sol.    Let's  go  back  to  the  boat." 

But  I  hadn't  seen  so  many  shows  as  he  had  and  I 
wanted  to  stay. 

"  You  wait  a  spell,  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  I. 
"  Let's  cruise  round  a  little  first." 

So  we  went  shoving  along  through  the  crowd, 
getting  our  toes  tramped  on  and  dodging  peddlers 
and  such  like  every  other  minute.  There  was  the 
"  test  your  strength  "  machine  and  the  merry-go- 
round  and  the  "  ossified  man  "  in  a  tent :  "  Walk 
right  up,  gents,  and  cast  your  eyes  on  the  greatest 
marvel  of  the  age  all  alive  and  solid  stone  only 
two  nickels  a  dime  ten  cents,"  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  Pretty  soon  we  come  to  where  the  feller  was 
selling  the  E  Pluribus  Unum  candy — red,  white 


$8  MR.  PRATT 

and  blue,  and  a  slab  as  big  as  a  brick  for  a 
dime. 

Hartley  stopped  and  stares  at  it. 

"  For  heaven's  sake !  "  says  he.  "  What  do  they 
do  with  that?" 

"  Do  with  it  ?  "  says  I.    "  Eat  it,  of  course." 

"No?"  he  says.    "Not  really?" 

"  Humph!  "  I  says.    "  You  just  wait  a  shake." 

There  was  a  little  red-headed  youngster  scooting 
in  and  out  among  the  folks'  knees  and  I  caught  him 
by  the  shoulder.  "  Hi,  Andrew  Jackson  I  "  says  I. 
"  Want  some  candy?  " 

He  looked  up  at  me  as  pert  and  sassy  as  a  black- 
bird on  a  scarecrow's  shoulder. 

"  Bet  your  natural !  "  says  he.    I  jumped. 

"  Lord !  "  says  I ;  "  I  cal'late  he  knows  you." 

Hartley  smiled.  "  How  do  they  sell  that — , 
that  Portland  cement?"  says  he.  "Give  me 
some,"  he  says,  handing  a  half  dollar  to  the  feller 
behind  the  oil-cloth  counter.  The  man  chiseled 
off  enough  for  a  fair-sized  tombstone  and  handed 
it  out.  Hartley  passed  it  to  the  boy.  He  bit  off 
a  hunk  that  made  him  look  like  he  had  the  mumps 
all  on  one  side,  and  commenced  to  crunch  it. 

"  There  1  "  says  I.  "  That's  proof  enough, 
ain't  it?" 


THE  PIG  RACE  59 

But  he  wa'n't  satisfied.  "  Wait  a  minute,"  says 
he.    "I  want  to  see  what  it  does  to  him." 

Well,  it  didn't  do  nothing,  apparently,  except 
to  make  the  little  shaver's  jaws  sound  like  a  rock 
crusher,  so  we  went  on.  By  and  by  we  come  to  the 
fence  alongside  of  the  place  where  they  had  the 
races.  The  sack  race  was  on,  half  a  dozen  fellers 
hopping  around  tied  up  in  meal  bags,  and  we  see 
that.  Then  Hartley  was  for  going  home  again, 
but  I  managed  to  hold  him.  The  greased  pig  was 
the  next  number  on  the  dance  order,  and  I  wanted 
to  see  it. 

Major  Philander  Phinney,  he's  chairman  of  the 
Eastwich  selectmen  and  pretty  nigh  half  as  big  as 
he  thinks  he  is ;  he  stood  on  tip-toe  on  the  judge's 
stand  and  bellered  that  the  greased  pig  contest  was 
open  to  boys  under  fifteen,  and  that  the  one  that 
caught  the  pig  and  hung  on  to  it  would  get  five 
dollars.  In  less  than  three  shakes  of  a  herring's 
hind  leg  there  was  boys  enough  on  that  field  to 
start  a  reform  school.  They  ranged  all  the  way 
from  little  chaps  who  ought  to  have  been  home 
cutting  their  milk  teeth  to  "  boys  "  that  had  yellow 
fuzz  on  their  chins  and  a  plug  of  chewing  tobacco 
in  their  pants'  pocket.  They  fetched  in  the  pig 
shut  up  in  a  box  with  laths  over  the  top.     He  was 


6o  MR.  PRATT 

little  and  black  and  all  shining  with  grease.  Then 
they  stretched  a  rope  across  one  end  of  the  race 
field  and  lined  up  the  pig  chasers  behind  it. 

"  Hello !  "  says  Hartley,  "  there's  our  Port- 
land cement  youngster.  He'll  never  run  with  that 
marble  quarry  inside  of  him." 

Sure  enough,  there  was  the  boy  that  had  tackled 
the  candy.  I  could  see  his  red  head  blazing  like 
a  lightning  bug  alongside  of  a  six-foot  infant  with 
overalls  and  a  promising  crop  of  side  whiskers. 
Next  thing  I  knew  the  starter — Issachar  Tiddit, 
'twas — he  opens  the  lid  to  the  pig  box  and  hollers 
"Go!" 

The  line  dropped.  That  little  lone  pig  see 
twenty  odd  pair  of  hands  shooting  towards  him, 
and  he  fetched  a  yell  like  a  tugboat  whistle  and  put 
down  the  field,  with  the  whole  crew  behind  him. 
The  crowd  got  on  tiptoe  and  stretched  their  necks 
to  see.  Everybody  hollered  and  hurrahed  and 
"  haw,  hawed." 

Now  I've  been  calling  the  place  where  they  had 
the  races  and  so  on  a  field.  Well,  twa'n't  really 
a  field,  but  just  part  of  the  course  where  they  had 
trotting  matches  on  cattle  show  days.  There  was 
a  fence  on  each  side  of  it  and  across  the  ends  of 
the    section    they    was    using    there    was    ropes 


THE  PIG  RACE  61 

stretched.  Back  of  the  fences  was  the  crowd  on 
foot,  and  back  of  the  ropes  was  more  of  'em,  but 
behind  these  ropes  likewise  was  lots  of  horses  and 
wagons  and  carry-alls  and  such.  Every  wagon  was 
piled  full  of  people  and  amongst  'em  I  could  see  the 
Barry  coach,  with  the  four  gray  steppers  prancing 
up  and  down  in  front  of  it  and  old  Commodore 
Barry  and  his  son  on  the  front  seat  with  the  women 
folks  behind. 

Well,  when  that  pig  started  he  made  a  straight 
course  for  the  lower  end  of  the  field,  but  the  sight 
of  the  horses  and  all  scared  him,  I  guess,  and  he 
jibed  and  back  he  come  again.  Half  a  dozen  of 
the  pig  chasers — them  that  was  nearest  to  him 
when  he  come  about — ran  into  each  other  and 
piled  up  in  a  heap,  squirming  like  an  eel-pot. 
They  got  up  in  a  jiffy  and  started  over  again, 
meeting  the  gang  that  was  coming  back  on  the 
second  lap. 

By  the  time  that  pig  had  made  three  laps  round 
that  course  he  was  a  candidate  for  the  hogs'  lunatic 
asylum.  Twice  he'd  been  grabbed,  once  by  the 
ears  and  once  by  a  leg,  but  his  liveliness  and  the 
grease  had  got  him  clear.  About  half  of  the  boys 
had  given  up  the  job,  and  was  making  for  harbor 
behind  the  fence;  covered  with  sand  and  grease, 


62  MR.  PRATT 

they  was,  and  red  and  ashamed.  The  crowd  was 
pretty  nigh  as  crazy  as  the  pig,  only  with  joy. 
Even  Hartley  was  laughing  out  loud — first  time 
I'd  ever  heard  him. 

That  little  chap  with  the  red  hair  had  been  right 
up  with  the  mourners  till  the  third  round ;  then  he 
was  stood  on  his  head  in  the  scuffle  and  left  behind 
down  by  the  ropes  in  front  of  where  the  Barrys 
was.  The  rest  of  the  chasers  were  scattered  around 
the  other  end  of  the  field,  with  the  pig  doing  the 
grand  right  and  left  in  and  out  amongst  their  legs. 
One  of  the  boys — that  big  lanky  one  whose  cheeks 
needed  mowing — made  a  flying  jump  and  dove 
head  first  right  on  top  of  the  critter's  shiny  black 
back.  In  a  shake  he  was  the  underpinning,  so  to 
speak,  of  a  sort  of  monument  of  boys,  all  fighting 
like  dogs  over  a  woodchuck. 

Next  thing  I  knew  the  pig  shot  out  from  under- 
neath the  pile  same  as  if  he'd  been  fired  out  of  a 
cannon.  He  was  squealing  when  he  begun  to  fly 
and  squealing  when  he  lit,  but  his  running  tackle 
hadn't  been  hurt  any.  Down  the  field  he  went  and 
the  only  one  of  the  chasers  in  front  of  him  was  that 
little  red  head.  He  makes  a  grab,  misses,  and  the 
pig  keeps  straight  on,  right  into  the  crowd  of  men 
and  horses  and  carriages. 


THE  PIG  RACE  63 

"  Look  out !  "  yells  everybody.  "  Let  him  go  1  " 
But  that  little  shaver  wa'n't  built  that  way.  Under 
the  ropes  he  dives,  right  where  the  jam  of  wheels 
and  hoofs  was  thickest.  The  Barry  coach  horses 
rared  up  and  jumped  and  backed.  You  could  hear 
wheels  grinding  and  men  yelling  vid  women 
screaming. 

I  was  one  of  the  first  over  that  fence,  but, 
quick  as  I  was,  that  Hartley  invalid  was  quicker. 
As  a  general  thing  he  moved  like  'twas  hardly 
worth  while  to  drag  one  foot  after  the  other;  but 
now  he  flew.  I  could  see  his  big  shoulders  shoving 
folks  over  like  they  was  ninepins.  Under  the  ropes 
he  went  and  in  where  the  tangle  was  the  worst. 
And  then  it  closed  up  into  a  screeching,  kicking 
whirlpool  like.  Down  he  went  and  I  lost  sight  of 
him. 

Everybody  on  the  grounds  was  crazy,  but  I 
cal'late  I  was  the  worst  Bedlamite  of  the  lot. 
Somehow  I  felt  responsible.  'Twas  me  that  told 
about  the  Fourth  of  July  doings  first  and  got  him 
over  there.  'Twas  me  that  coaxed  him  into  staying 
for  the  consarned  pig  business.  And  I  kind  of  felt 
that  I  was  his  guardian,  as  you  might  say,  now  that 
Van  Brunt  wa'n't  along.  Yes,  and  by  ginger,  I 
liked  him !    Course  I  thought  of  the  poor  little  boy, 


64  MR.  PRATT 

too,  but  I'm  free  to  say  'twas  Hartley  that  I 
thought  of  most. 

For  the  doings  of  the  next  two  or  three  minutes 
you'll  have  to  ask  somebody  else.  All's  I  remember 
real  well  is  catching  hold  of  Issachar  Tidditt's 
Sunday  cutaway  and  ripping  it  from  main  truck 
to  keelson.  You  see,  Issachar  was  trying  to  back 
out  of  the  tangle  and  I  was  diving  in.  Next 
thing  I'm  sure  of  is  hanging  onto  the  bridle  of 
one  of  the  Barry  horses  and  playing  snap  the 
whip  with  my  feet,  up  and  down  and  over  and 
under. 

She  cleared  up  some  finally  and  there  was  a  ring 
of  folks  jamming  and  pushing  and  climbing  be- 
tween wheels  and  under  wagon  bodies,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  ring  was  Hartley,  kneeling  on  the 
ground  and  looking  pretty  middling  white  and  sick, 
with  a  dripping  cut  over  his  eye,  and  with  that 
little  shaver's  red  head  in  his  lap.  And  old  Doc 
Bailey  was  there,  but  how  or  when  he  come  I  don't 
know.  Yes,  me  and  the  pig  was  there,  too,  but  the 
critter  was  out  of  commission,  being  dead,  and  I 
was  too  busy  to  think  where  I  was. 

"  How  is  he,  doctor?  "  asked  Hartley  anxious. 

The  Doc  didn't  answer  for  a  minute  or  so;  he 
was  bending  over  the  boy,  sponging  and  swabbing 


THE  PIG  RACE  65 

like  all  possessed.  Poor  little  chap;  he  looked 
white  and  pitiful  enough,  stretched  out  there 
amongst  that  crowd  of  strangers  and  not  a  soul  of 
his  own  folks  around  to  look  out  for  him.  And  he 
was  such  a  gritty  little  mite.  I  looked  at  him; 
chalk  white  he  was,  and  still,  with  his  eyes  shut  and 
his  breath  coming  kind  of  short  and  jerky.  And — 
well,  my  breath  got  jerky,  too. 

"  How  is  he?  "  says  Hartley  again. 

Just  as  he  said  it  the  boy  stirs  and  begins  to 
breathe  more  regular.  The  doctor  seemed  to  feel 
better. 

"  He'll  come  round  all  right  now,"  says  the  Doc. 
"  'Twas  the  kick  that  knocked  him  out.  The  pig 
got  the  worst  of  it  and  that  saved  him.  There  are 
no  bones  broken.  But  he'd  have  been  trampled  to 
death  afterwards  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  sir. 
Better  let  me  fix  up  that  cut." 

But  the  Twin  shook  his  head  kind  of  impatient. 
"  'Tend  to  the  boy,"  he  says.  So  the  doctor  went 
on  with  his  sponging  and  swabbing  and  pretty  soon 
the  youngster  opens  his  eyes. 

11  Did  I  get  him  ?  "  says  he. 

"  What's  that?  "  asked  the  Doc,  stooping  over. 

"  Did  I  get  the  pig  ?  Is  the  fiver  comin'  to  me  ?  " 

Well,  you'd  ought  to  have  heard  the  crowd 


66  MR.  PRATT 

laugh.  Somebody  sings  out,  "Three  cheers  for 
the  kid,"  and  they  give  'em  with  a  whoop. 

"What's  the  matter  with  youse?"  says  the 
youngster,  setting  up  and  looking  around,  dizzy 
like.  "  Aw,  cut  it  out !  "  he  says,  when  they  begun 
to  holler  some  more.    "  Did  I  get  the  pig?  " 

"  You  bet  you  did,"  says  the  doctor,  laughing. 
"  You're  a  spunky  little  rooster.  Whose  boy  are 
you,  anyway?    Belong  in  Eastwich?  " 

"  Naw,"  says  the  little  feller,  like  he  was  plumb 
disgusted.    "N'York." 

Hartley  smiled.  "  A  brother  outcast,"  says  he, 
looking  up  at  me. 

Major  Phinney  had  been  shoving  through  the 
crowd  and  now  he  was  in  the  front  rank,  where,  so 
they  tell  me,  he  used  to  be  in  war  time — after  the 
fighting  was  over. 

14  He's  one  of  them  Fresh  Air  boys,"  says  the 
Major,  puffing,  but  pompous.  M  There's  a  sum- 
mer school  of  'em  been  started  just  outside  the 
town  here.  Couple  of  New  York  women  brought 
the  tribe  down  last  week.    This  one's  one." 

Little  red  head  turned  to  Hartley.  "  Say," 
says  he,  "  don't  you  tell  her." 

"  Tell  who?  "  says  Martin. 

"  The  teacher.    Miss  Agony." 


THE  PIG  RACE  67 

"  M\ss  which?  " 

And  just  then  here  comes  Issachar,  his  cutaway 
hanging  graceful  and  ornamental  from  the  collar, 
and  piloting  a  mighty  pretty  and  stylish  young 
woman  to  the  front.  She  breaks  loose  from  him 
and  runs  for'ard  and  flops  down  on  her  knees. 

"Why,  Dennis!  Why,  Dennis!''  she  says. 
11  How  could  you  run  away  and  behave  like  this? 
Are  you  hurt?    Is  he " 

She  looks  up  at  Hartley  as  she  begins  to  ask  the 
last  question.  And  he  was  staring  at  her  as  white 
as  a  sheet  of  paper. 

11  Why,  Agnes!  "  he  says.  And  she  went  white, 
too,  and  then  red.  "  Oh !  "  says  she.  And  then 
"  Oh !  "  again.    "  Oh,  Martin!  " 


CHAPTER   V 
\THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BASSETT" 

AFTER  that  there  was  a  kind  of  tableau, 
same  as  them  they  have  at  church  soci- 
ables. Here  was  Hartley  staring  at  the 
young  woman,  and  the  young  woman  staring  at 
him,  and  the  boy  staring  at  both  of  'em,  and  me 
staring  at  the  three,  and  the  crowd  around  doing 
grand  double-back-action  staring  at  the  whole  of 
us.  Then  the  party  broke  up,  as  you  might  say. 
Hartley,  red  as  a  beet  now,  got  up  and  bowed. 
The  young  woman  got  up  too  and  held  out  her 
hand  in  a  doubting  sort  of  way.  But  afore  he 
could  take  it,  she  seemed  to  remember  something, 
or  changed  her  mind,  for  she  dropped  the  hand 
and  turned  to  the  boy,  who  was  on  his  feet  by  this 
time  looking  down  at  the  relics  of  his  clothes. 
And  between  grease  and  sand  and  dirt  and  rags 
they  made  a  ruin  that  was  worth  looking  at — made 
you  think  of  a  rubbish  pile  with  a  red  danger  lan- 
tern on  top. 

68 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BJSSETT"  69 

"  You  naughty  boy !  "  says  she.  "  How  could 
you  do  so?  If  you  knew  how  frightened  Miss 
Talford  and  I  have  been.     Are  you  hurt,  dear?  " 

"  Naw,"  says  the  dear,  brisk  and  dssgusted. 
"  Sure  I  ain't." 

The  young  woman  fidgeted  around  him,  petting 
and  "  pooring  "  him  and  pinning  him  together,  so 
to  speak.  Hartley  fidgeted  too,  not  seeming  to 
have  his  bearings  at  all.  He  acted  to  me  like  he 
wished  he  was  ten  thousand  miles  away;  and  yet 
I  cal'late  he  didn't  really  wish  it  neither.  The 
doctor  and  Major  Phinney  were  fussing  around 
and  the  'crowd  kept  getting  bigger  and  closing  in. 

"  If  you'll  excuse  me,  Miss,"  says  I,  interfer- 
ing as  usual  where  'twas  none  of  my  affairs,  "  I 
think  perhaps  'twould  be  a  good  idea  if  we  went 
somewheres  where  'twan't  so  popular.  Maybe  we 
might  go  into  one  of  the  rooms  at  the  hall  or 
somewheres." 

11  Why,  of  course !  "  says  Hartley,  grabbing  at 
the  notion  like  'twas  a  rope  I'd  thrown  out  to  him. 
"  We'll  go  to  the  hall.  Ag — Miss  Page,  let  me 
present  my  friend,  Mr.  Solomon  Pratt." 

So  'twas  the  Page  girl,  after  all.  I'd  guessed 
as  much,  though  how  she  come  to  be  in  Eastwich 
when  she'd  ought  to  have  been  in  Europe  was 


7o  MR.  PRATT 

more'n  I  could  make  out.  She  looked  up  at  me 
and  reached  out  her  little  hand  with  a  kid  glove  on 
it.  Likewise  she  smiled — not  with  her  mouth 
alone,  same  as  an  undertaker  meeting  the  relatives 
of  the  departed,  but  with  her  eyes  too.  'Twas 
the  right  kind  of  a  smile.  I'm  vaccinated  and 
not  subject  to  women  folks  as  a  rule,  but  I'd  have 
done  considerable  to  get  a  deckload  of  them 
smiles. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Pratt,"  says 
she,  just  as  though  she  meant  it.  And  we  shook 
hands — really  shook  'em. 

Afore  I  could  get  over  that  shake  and  smile 
enough  to  be  sensible,  Major  Philander  shoved 
her  arm  into  his  and  headed  for  the  hall.  Drat 
his  figurehead!  You  never  could  beat  that  old 
image  when  there  was  a  pretty  woman  around. 
Hartley  looked  kind  of  set  back  like.  Then  he 
takes  the  boy  by  the  hand  and  falls  into  the 
Major's  wake.  Me  and  the  doctor  trailed  along 
behind. 

The  Doc  kept  talking  about  what  a  brave  thing 
the  Twin's  diving  under  the  horses  was,  but  I 
didn't  hear  more  than  half  of  it.  I  was  watching 
the  Page  girl's  hat  and  thinking  how  much  pret- 
tier 'twas  than  the  ones  them  boarder  girls  at  the 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BJSSETT"  71 

hotel  wore.     And  yet  there  wa'n't  a  quarter  so 
many  feathers  and  ribbons  and  doodads  on  it. 

The  little  chap  was  chirping  up  to  Hartley  all 
the  way.  What  worried  him  was  when  he  was 
going  to  get  his  five  dollars.  Martin  told  him 
he'd  get  it  all  right.  He'd  advance  it  himself  and 
collect  it  afterwards. 

"What's  your  name,  son?"  says  he  to  the 
youngster. 

"  Denny,"  says  the  boy. 

"  Denny?    Dennis,  you  mean?    Dennis  what?  " 
"  Aw,  I  don't  know.     Plain  Denny,  I  guess." 
"Where  do  you  live  in  New  York?" 
"  Over  around  Cherry  Street  most  of  the  time. 
Me  and  the  old  man  used  to  hang  out  in  the  back 
room  of  Mike  Donahue's  place  on  Mott  Street 
till  he  got  sent  up.     Then  I  got  to  sellin'  papers 
and  doin'  shines  and  things.     Sometimes  I'd  take  a 
shy  at  the  Newsboys'  Home  nights.     That's  where 
Miss  Agony — Miss   Page,   I  mean — found  me. 
I'm  one  of  the  Fresh  Air  kids  over  to  her  place." 
"  Many  more  like  you  over  there?  " 
"Sure!  nine  or  ten  of  us;  girls  and  all.     We 
been  here  a  week  now.     I  skinned  out  of  the  win- 
der this  mornin'  and  hoofed  it  over  here.     Wanted 
to  see  the  show.     Gee!  what  a   gang  of  jays! 


72  MR.  PRATT 

You're  the  guy  what  put  up  the  eandy  for  me, 
ain't  you?  " 

"  Shouldn't  wonder.  Do  you  like  your 
teacher?  " 

11  Bet  your  life.  She's  a  peach.  So's  the  other 
one;  Miss  Talford  her  name  is." 

"  Humph !  What  do  they  call  you  over  on  the 
East  Side  when  you're  at  home?  " 

41  Redny,"  says  the  little  shaver. 

Hartley  looked  down  at  him  and  smiled  one  of 
his  quiet  grins. 

"Bully  for  you,  Redny!"  says  he.  "You're 
a  brick." 

We  got  through  the  crowd  and  into  the  hall 
finally.  Shutting  the  door  was  a  job.  The  folks 
outside  seemed  to  think  they'd  been  cheated.  I'd 
like  to  have  got  rid  of  Philander,  but  you  couldn't 
do  that  without  a  block  and  tackle;  he  stuck  to 
Miss  Page  like  a  kedge  anchor  to  mud  bottom. 
The  doctor  was  putting  a  strip  of  sticking  plaster 
on  Hartley's  forehead.  The  cut  wa'n't  nothing 
but  a  scratch,  I'm  glad  to  say. 

After  a  spell  I  see  my  chance  and  I  cornered 
the  Major  and  commenced  to  talk  politics.  He 
was  hankering  for  the  county  representative  nomi- 
nation and  I  knew  his  soft  spot.     Hartley  and  the 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BASSETT"  73 

Page  girl  got  together  then,  but  they  didn't  seem 
to  know  what  to  say. 

I  heard  her  explaining  that  she  hadn't  gone  to 
Europe  at  all.  Her  ma  had  been  took  sick;  noth- 
ing to  speak  of,  I  judged,  spell  of  "  nerves  "  or 
the  like  of  that.  So  Agnes  and  her  chum,  this 
Margaret  Talford,  had  seen  the  chance  they'd 
been  waiting  for  and  had  got  their  poor  children 
tribe  together  and  come  down  and  took  the 
Lathrop  place  at  South  Eastwich.  Seems  Miss 
Talford  had  hired  it  afore,  intending  to  go  the 
Fresh  Air  v'yage  alone,  long's  she  couldn't  get 
Agnes  to  go  it  with  her. 

"But  how  is  it  that  you're  here?"  says  she. 
"  I  thought  you  were  at  the  mountains." 

Hartley  explained  that,  at  the  last  moment, 
he  had  decided  to  try  the  seashore.  He  was  at 
Wellmouth  for  the  present,  he  said. 

"  But  you  should  have  known  I  was  here,"  she 
says.  "  I  wrote  to — to  Ed,  of  course — before  I 
left  the  city.  Oh,  I  see !  I  sent  the  letter  to  your 
Adirondack  address.  But  it  should  have  been 
forwarded." 

Hartley  stammered  a  little,  but  he  said  quiet 
that  he  was  afraid  perhaps  Van  Brunt  hadn't 
thought  to  send  word  to  have  his  mail  forwarded. 


74  MR.  PRATT 

"  I  see,"  she  says.     "  That's  like  Ed." 

Martin  seemed  to  think  'twas  too,  but  all  he 
said  was,  "  He's  written  you  very  faithfully.  His 
letters,  of  course,  have  gone  to  Liverpool." 

Well,  that  was  about  all.  We  had  to  be  going. 
I  said  good-by  and  we  started  for  the  door.  Miss 
Page  came  over  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  she,  "  I  want  to  thank  you 
for  saving  Dennis;  Major  Phinney  told  me  about 
it.  It  was  brave.  And  I'm  glad  that  you're  not 
hurt." 

She  was  pretty  nervous,  but  a  good  deal  less 
flustered  than  he  was  when  he  took  her  hand. 

"  It  was  nothing,  of  course,"  he  says,  hurried 
like.  "  That  youngster  was  worth  picking  up. 
Good  morning,  Miss  Page." 

He  stopped  a  second  to  say  something  about 
Van  Brunt  no  doubt  coming  over  to  see  her  in  a 
day  or  so.  And  then  we  left  the  hall  and  headed 
for  the  street. 

We  walked  along  pretty  brisk  for  a  ways, 
neither  of  us  saying  much  of  anything.  Whatever 
there  was  I  cal'late  I  said.  By  and  by  we  come  to 
the  railroad  crossing.  And  here  Hartley  stops 
short. 

"  Sol,"   says  he,   "  I  believe  I'll  go  back  by 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BASSETT"  75 

train.  I  don't  feel  like  a  sea  trip  this  afternoon. 
That — er — that  crack  on  the  head  has  shaken  me 
up  some,  I  guess.  Explain  to  Van,  will  you? 
Tell  him  I'm  all  right,  but  that  I've  got  a  little 
headache.     Understand? " 

I  presumed  likely  that  I  understood — more 
friaybe  than  he  thought  I  did.  Headache  is  a  fair 
do  middling  excuse,  but  I  judged  there  was  other 
things.  I'd  seen  them  two  look  at  each  other 
&hen  they  met,  and — well,  they  say  a  nod's  as  good 
xs  a  wink  to  a  blind  horse,  and  I  ain't  blind.  I 
made  a  sort  of  note  in  my  mind  to  get  the  pumps 
to  working  again  on  Lord  James  next  time  I  got  a 
chance  at  him  alone. 

Hartley  left  me  and  went  over  to  the  railroad 
depot  and  I  kept  on  down  the  road  to  the  shore. 
I  was  loafing  along,  going  over  to  myself  the 
doings  of  the  afternoon  and  wondering  what  Van 
Brunt  would  say  and  so  on,  when  I  come  out  into 
the  clear  place  at  the  top  of  Meeting  House  Hill. 
And  the  meeting  house  clock  struck  four. 

I  jumped  like  I'd  set  down  on  a  hot  stove.  I 
hadn't  no  idea  it  was  as  late  as  that.  The  pig  and 
the  Page  girl  and  the  rest  of  the  mix-up  had  put  all 
notion  of  time  out  of  my  head.  I  yanked  out  my 
watch  to  make  sure  that  that  clock  was  right,  and 


76  MR.  PRATT 

then  I  glanced  at  the  sky.  Over  to  the  east'ard 
a  big,  fat,  gray  fog  bank  was  piling  up.  'Twas 
high  water  at  two,  Eastwich  Port  cove  is  a  nasty 
place  to  get  out  of  at  low  tide,  and  here  was  an 
easterly  fog  coming. 

As  a  general  thing  I  don't  take  anybody's  wash 
when  it  comes  to  handling  a  boat,  or  looking  out 
for  weather  and  such,  but  now  I  was  ready  to  sing 
small.  A  ten-year-old  boy  brought  up  along 
shore  would  have  known  better  than  to  do  as  I'd 
done.  Don't  make  no  odds  how  good  an  excuse 
I  had  for  forgetting;  no  excuse  is  good  where  it 
comes  to  sailboating.  I  went  down  that  hill  like 
the  man  in  the  tin  coffin  went  to  Tophet,  "  clinketty 
jingle."  I  jumped  fences  and  cut  across  lots,  and 
I'm  ready  to  swear  right  now  that  there's  more 
horse  briars  to  the  square  inch  in  Eastwich  Port 
than  in  any  other  place  on  the  Lord's  green  earth. 
I  bust  through  the  pines  and  come  out  on  the 
beach  yelling,  "  Hi !  Turn  out,  everybody !  Get 
aboard  now.     Lively !  " 

And,  by  time !  there  wa'n't  a  soul  in  sight.  For 
no  less  than  twenty-two  and  a  half  minutes  by  my 
watch  I  walked  up  and  down  that  beach,  seeing  the 
tide  go  out  and  bellering  "  Ahoy!  "  and  "  Where 
are  you  ?  "  at  the  top  of  my  lungs.     And  then,  lo 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BASSETT"r? 

and  behold  you,  here  comes  Van  Brunt  and  Lord 
James,  poking  along  as  easy  as  if  they  had  all  the 
time  there  was.  Van  had  been  over  behind  the 
point  taking  a  swim  and  his  Lordship  had  gone 
along  to  set  on  his  boss's  trousers  and  keep  the 
creases  in,  or  some  such  mighty  important  job. 

"  All  right,  skipper;  all  right,"  drawls  Van,  cool 
as  a  Sunday  school  boy  at  an  ice  cream  sociable. 
"  You've  got  good  lungs  and  you'd  ought  to  be 
careful  of  'em.  I've  heard  you  whooping  for  the 
last  ten  minutes.  What  did  you  and  Martin  have 
when  you  were  up  town?  By  the  way,  where  is 
Martin  ?  " 

He  was  so  everlasting  comfortable  and  sassy 
and  I  was  so  biling  hot  and  nervous  that  it  made 
me  mad. 

"  He's  gone  home  on  the  train,"  I  snapped  out. 
"  Got  a  headache." 

"Headache,  eh?  Humph!  What  did  you 
have  up  town  and  where  did  you  get  it?  " 

"  Never  mind  where  we  got  it,"  says  I. 
"  You'll  get  a  headache  from  setting  up  stuck  on 
a  shoal  all  night  if  you  don't  get  aboard  that  boat. 
Look  at  them  clouds." 

He  looked  at  'em.  "  Ah,"  he  says;  "  very  like 
a  whale." 


78  MR.  PRATT 

I  didn't  know  what  he  meant  and  I  didn't 
care. 

"Whale!  "  says  I.  "Well,  we'll  be  lucky  if 
we  ain't  the  Jonahs.  Get  aboard  with  that  basket, 
you  Opper  what's-your-name,  will  you;  if  you 
want  to  fetch  port  to-night." 

Lord  James  looked  like  he'd  like  to  put  another 
"  'ead  "  on  me,  but  his  boss  was  round  and  he 
dassent  talk  back.  Between  us  we  loaded  the  dun- 
nage. Then  Van  got  aboard,  deliberate  enough  to 
try  a  parson's  patience,  and  I  cast  loose  and  got 
sail  on  the  Dora  Bassett.  We'd  made  a  start, 
anyhow. 

But  it  turned  out  that  was  all  we'd  made.  Van 
commenced  to  ask  me  more -about  Hartley,  and 
afore  I  could  tell  him  the  news  about  the  pig  race 
and  the  rest,  the  Dora  Bassett  run  her  nose  on  a 
sand  flat  and  there  she  stuck.  I  was  afraid  of  that 
tide  all  along. 

I  tried  to  get  her  off  with  the  oar,  but  'twas  no 
go.  Then  I  pulled  the  skiff  alongside — the  one 
we'd  been  towing  astern — and  got  into  that  and 
tried  that  way.  But  that  wouldn't  work  either. 
Finally  I  jumped  overboard  up  to  my  waist  and 
then  I  got  her  off. 

But  she  stuck  again  afore  we  got  out  of  the  cove* 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BJSSETT"  79 

I  splashed  and  shoved  and  worked  for  another 
half  hour  or  so,  the  wind  dying  out  and  the  fog 
drifting  in.  Time  I  got  her  afloat  this  time  and 
had  listened  to  a  steady  stretch  of  Van  Brunt's 
lazy  sarcasms,  my  temper  was  worn  to  shoe-strings. 
Consarn  the  man !  It  didn't  seem  to  make  no  dif- 
ference to  him  whether  he  got  home  that  night  or 
a  week  from  then. 

We  got  out  of  that  blessed  cove  and  into  the 
channel  somewheres  around  six  o'clock.  Then 
'twas  a  dead  beat  home  and  the  breeze  pretty  nigh 
gone.  A  few  minutes,  and  the  fog  shut  down  on 
us,  wet  and  thick  and  heavy  as  ever  I  see  it.  We 
poked  along  for  an  hour  or  so  more  and  then 
'twas  'most  dark  and  we  wa'n't  half  way  to  Well- 
mouth.  Lord  James  was  in  his  usual  position, 
hanging  on  to  the  centerboard  and  moving  his  head 
from  one  side  to  t'other  as  if  he  was  afraid  of 
being  hit  when  he  wa'n't  looking.  I'd  pretty  nigh 
scalped  him  with  the  boom  once  or  twice  and  now 
he  ducked  whenever  the  tiller  squeaked.  He  cer- 
tainly looked  like  a  statue  of  misery  in  a  fountain, 
with  the  fog  dripping  off  his  side-whiskers. 

Van  was  stretched  out  on  the  locker,  blowing 
smoke  rings  and  spouting  poetry.  I'd  been  too 
busy  to  tell  him  a  word  about  his  girl's  being  in 


8o  MR.  PRATT 

the  neighborhood.  Fact  is,  I  didn't  like  the  feel 
of  things.     I  believed  there  was  wind  coming. 

"  See  here,"  says  I,  finally,  "  one  of  you  fellers' 
'11  have  to  go  for'ard  and  keep  an  eye  out 
for  shoals.  We're  on  the  edge  of  the  channel 
here  and  I  want  to  be  in  deep  water  afore  a 
squall  hits  us.  I  cal'late  there's  one  pretty  nigh 
due." 

His  Lordship  just  stared  at  me  fishy-eyed  and 
pitiful.  As  for  Van,  he  went  on  reciting  some- 
thing about  being  on  the  sea,  "  with  the  blue  above 
and  the  blue  below."  He  wa'n't  going  to  stir — 
not  him. 

"  Look  here,"  I  says.  "  If  we  strike  a  sand 
bar  and  a  squall  strikes  us  at  the  same  time  we'll 
go  below,  way  down,  where  it's  a  big  sight  bluer 
than  'tis  here,  'cording  to  the  minister's  tell.  Go 
for'ard  on  lookout,  won't  you  ?  " 

So  he  went,  though  I  doubt  if  he'd  have  known 
a  bar  when  he  see  one — not  that  kind  anyway. 

Pretty  soon  the  breeze  give  out  altogether. 
And  then,  from  off  in  the  distance,  I  heard  a  noise, 
a  rushing,  roaring  kind  of  noise. 

"  Hark !  "  I  yells.  "  Do  you  hear  that  ?  Here 
she  comes!  Down  with  the  jib.  Haul  on  that 
rope,   Mr.   Van,   will  you?     No,   no!     T'other 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BJSSETT"  81 

one!  T'other  one  I  Godfrey  scissors  1  Here 
you  Opper;  hang  on  to  that  tiller!  Keep  her  just 
as  she  is." 

I  made  a  long  arm,  grabbed  that  valet  man  by 
the  collar,  yanked  him  into  the  sternsheets  and 
jammed  the  tiller  into  his  hand.  Then  I  took  a 
flying  leap  for'ard  where  the  Twin  was  trying  to 
cast  loose  the  peak  halliard,  having  a  notion,  it 
seemed,  that  it  ought  to  belong  to  the  jib. 

The  squall  struck  us.  The  fog  split  into  pieces, 
same  as  a  rotten  tops'l.  The  Dora  Bassett  heeled 
over  till  I  thought  she  was  going  on  her  beam  ends. 
His  Lordship  turned  loose  a  yell  like  a  tugboat 
whistle,  lets  go  the  tiller  and  dives  headfirst  into 
the  cockpit  amidships.  As  for  me,  I  was  swing- 
ing out  over  the  side  with  my  whole  weight  on  the 
jib  downhaul,  pawing  air  with  my  feet,  and  trying 
to  get  back  my  balance. 

That  downhaul  was  old  and  some  rotten.  It 
broke  and  I  went  overboard  with  a  howl  and  a 
splash. 

I  went  down  far  enough  to  begin  to  get  glimpses 
of  that  blue  place  I  was  speaking  of  just  now. 
Then  I  pawed  up  for  air.  When  my  head  stuck 
out  of  water  there  was  something  big  and  black 
swooping  past  it.     I  made  a  grab  and  caught  hold. 


82  MR.  PRATT 

As  luck  would  have  it  'twas  the  skiff  we  was  tow- 
ing astern. 

I  climbed  into  that  skiff  like  a  cat  up  a  tree. 
I  was  full  of  salt  water— eyes  and  all — but  I 
could  see  the  Dora  Bassett  flopping  ahead  of  me 
with  her  gaff  halfway  down  her  mast.  Seems 
the  halliard  had  broken  just  after  the  downhaul 
did. 

I  roared,  a  sputtering  kind  of  roar.  And  then 
Van's  head  stuck  out  over  the  sloop's  stern. 

"  God  sakes!  "  says  he.    "  Are  you  drowned?  " 

"  Drowned!  "  I  hollers.  "  Think  I'm  a  pesky 
lubber  just  cause  you — "  I  had  to  stop  here  to 
cough.  I  was  a  regular  tank,  as  you  might  say, 
of  salt  water. 

"Good  heavens!"  says  Van.  "Do  they 
always  do  that — boats,  I  mean?  " 

"  Always  do — "  I  was  so  mad  at  myself  and 
all  creation  that  I  could  scarcely  answer.  "  Oh, 
suffering  mighty !  if  ever  I  go  to  sea  again  with  a 
parcel  of —  Catch  a  hold  of  that  tiller!  Bring 
her  into  the  wind!  Cast  off  that  mainsheet! 
Cast  it  of!     Here  comes  another  one!  " 

I  suppose  mainsheets  are  kind  of  scarce  on  the 
"  Street."  Anyhow  I  see  that  he  didn't  know 
what  I  meant 


CRUISE  OF  THE  "DORA  BASSETT"  83 

"  That  rope  at  the  stern,"  I  hollers,  dancing 
around  in  the  skiff.     "  Cast  it  off!     Lively!  " 

The  second  squall  struck  us.  I  see  the  Dora 
Bassett  drive  off  in  a  sweeping  half  circle,  the  end 
of  the  boom  knocking  the  tops  of  the  waves 
to  pieces  and  the  spray  flying  like  a  waterfall. 
And,  louder  than  the  wind  or  anything  else,  I 
could  hear  Lord  James  bellering  for  home  and 
mother. 

But  'twan't  till  afterwards  that  I  remembered 
any  of  this.  Just  then  I  had  other  fish  to  fry. 
There  was  two  or  three  ropes  at  the  sailboat's 
stern  and  Van  had  cast  off  one  of  'em,  same  as  I 
ordered. 

Only,  as  it  happened,  instead  of  the  mainsheet 
he'd  cast  off  the  skiff's  painter.  Me  and  the  Dora 
Bassett  was  parting  company  fast. 

From  out  of  the  dark  ahead  of  me  come  a  yell, 
louder  even  than  Lord  James'  distress  signals. 

"  Sol!  "  hollers  Van  Brunt.     "  Sol  Pratt!  " 

"  Ay,  ay!  "  I  screams.  "  I'm  all  right.  Never 
mind  me.     Put  your  helm  over  to  port." 

"Put  what?" 

"  Put — your — helm — over — to— port!  Port! 
you  lubber !  Port  !  "  My  manners  had  gone 
overboard  when  I  did  and  they'd  missed  the  skiff. 


84  MR.  PRATT, 

'Twas  quiet  for  a  minute.  Then,  from  further 
off  comes  the  screech: 

"  What  —  part  —  of — the  —  damn — thing — 
is — port  ?  " 

"  Never  mind !  "  I  yells.  "  Keep — her — just — 
as  —  she  —  is.  You'll  —  fetch  —  up  —  all  — 
right.  Better — take — reef.  Slack — that — main 
—sheet!" 

Then  I  had  to  quit  and  grab  up  the  oars  and 
bring  the  skiff  bow  on  to  the  seas.  When  I  got  her 
headed  right  I  couldn't  see  nor  hear  nothing  of  the 
Dora  Bassett.  As  Major  Philander  Phinney  says 
when  he  gets  to  telling  how  much  better  General 
Grant  would  have  done  if  he'd  took  his  advice.  I 
was  "  disconnected  with  my  base  of  supplies." 


CHAPTER   VI 
OZONE  ISLAND 

I  WAS  pretty  busy  for  the  next  good  while 
'tending  to  that  skiff.  And  scared,  don't  say 
a  word.  Not  scared  for  myself,  you  under- 
stand— no  indeed.  When  I  get  drowned,  with  a 
tight  plank  under  me  and  a  pair  of  oars  in  my 
hand,  'twon't  be  in  the  bay,  I'll  tell  you  that.  But 
I  was  scared  for  Van  Brunt  and  His  Lordship  in 
the  Dora  Bassett.  They  didn't  either  of  'em 
know  the  jib  boom  from  the  rudder,  and  the  valet 
was  too  x:razy  frightened  to  be  of  any  use  if  he 
had. 

But  Van  was  sure  to  be  cool  enough,  and  the 
broken  gaff  would  act  like  a  double  reef,  so  that 
was  some  comfort.  And  the  squall  wa'n't  going 
to  amount  to  nothing — 'twas  only  a  fair  breeze 
even  now — so  if  Van  had  sense  enough  to  keep  the 
tiller  straight  and  let  her  run  they'd  fetch  up  some- 
wheres  alongshore,  I  judged.  And,  to  make  me 
hope  still  more,  the  squall  had  brought  a  complete 

§5 


86  MR,  PRATT 

change  of  wind  with  it;  now  'twas  blowing  back 
up  the  bay  instead  of  out  to  sea. 

So  I  squared  my  shoulders  and  laid  to  the  oars, 
heading  for  where,  judging  by  the  wind,  the  land 
ought  to  be.  'Twas  darker  than  a  black  kitten  in 
a  nigger's  pocket,  but  I  cal'lated  to  be  able  to  hit 
the  broadside  of  the  United  States  somewheres. 
I  got  aground  on  the  flats  five  or  six  times,  but 
along  towards  midnight  I  butted  ashore  at  the  little 
end  of  nowhere  where  there  was  nothing  but  bushes 
and  sand  and  pines,  no  sign  of  civilization.  And 
by  this  time  'twas  pouring  rain. 

After  a  couple  of  years  of  scratching  and  swear- 
ing and  falling  down  I  come  out  of  the  scrub  into 
a  kind  of  clearing.  Then  I  discovered  a  barbed 
wire  fence  by  hanging  up  on  it  like  a  sheet  on  a  line 
and  located  the  back  of  a  barn  by  banging  into  it 
with  my  head.  Then  a  nice  talkative  dog  come 
out  of  the  barn  and  located  me,  and  things  com- 
menced to  liven  up. 

While  me  and  the  dog  was  conducting  our  ex- 
perience meeting  a  light  showed  in  an  upstairs  win- 
dow a  little  ways  off  and  somebody  sticks  their 
head  out  and  wants  to  know  what's  the  matter. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  says. 

11  My  name's  Pratt,"  says  I. 


OZONE  ISLAND  87 

"Where  are  you?  " 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  judging  by  the  feel  and  smell 
I'm  on  the  top  of  the  pig-sty.  But  I  ain't  real 
sure.  I  can  tell  you  where  your  dog  is,  if  you 
want  to  know." 

"  What  are  you  doing  round  here  this  time  of 
night?  "  he  says. 

I  told  him  as  well  as  I  could.  The  dog  was 
having  a  conniption  fit,  trying  to  bark  itself  inside 
out,  and  I  had  to  say  things  over  three  or  four 
times  so's  a  body  could  hear.  But  the  feller  at 
the  window  wa'n't  satisfied  even  then.  I  never 
see  such  a  wooden-head. 

"What  Pratt  did  you  say  you  was?  "  he  hollers. 

I  told  him  my  name  and  where  I  hailed  from. 

"Sol  Pratt?"  says  he.  "Of  Wellmouth? 
What  are  you  doing  way  over  here?  " 

"Blast  it  all!"  I  yells.  "If  I  wa'n't  half 
drowned  already  I  should  say  I  was  getting  wet. 
Turn  out  and  let  a  feller  into  the  kitchen  or 
somewheres,  won't  you?  And  tie  up  this  ever- 
lasting dog." 

That  seemed  to  wake  him  up  some  and  in  tea 
minutes  or  so  he  comes  poking  out  with  a  lantern. 
I  knew  him  then.  'Twas  Ebenezer  Holbrook, 
Huldy  Ann  Scudder's  sister's  husband,  who  lives 


88  MR.  PRATT 

over  in  the  woods  on  the  line  between  South  East- 
wich  and  West  Ostable.  There  was  another  man 
with  him  and  blest  if  it  didn't  turn  out  to  be 
Nate  Scudder  himself.  Him  and  Huldy  was  visit- 
ing over  there,  same  as  he  said  they  was  going  to. 

Nate  had  more  than  a  million  questions  to  ask. 
Ebenezer  tied  up  the  dog — the  critter  pretty  nigh 
broke  down  and  sobbed  when  he  found  I  wa'n't  to 
be  fed  to  him — and  we  went  into  the  kitchen. 
Then  Mrs.  Holbrook  and  Huldy  Ann,  rigged  up 
tasty  and  becoming  in  curl  papers  and  bedquilts, 
floated  downstairs  and  there  was  more  questions. 

When  Nate  found  out  that  one  of  his  lodgers 
was  cast  adrift  in  the  bay  he  was  almost  as  worried 
and  upset  as  I  was.  But  Ebenezer  agreed  with  us 
that  there  was  a  good  chance  of  the  sloop's  getting 
ashore  safe.  He  said  why  didn't  I  turn  in  on  his 
setting-room  lounge  for  the  few  hours  between 
then  and  sun-up,  and  in  the  morning  me  and  Nate 
could  take  his  yawl  dory  and  cruise  alongshore  and 
hunt.  So  I  done  it,  though  'twas  precious  little 
sleep  I  got. 

About  six  o'clock  we  started.  I  thought  first 
I'd  go  up  to  Eastwich  village  and  telegraph  to 
Hartley.  Then  I  thought  I'd  better  not;  no  use 
to  scare  him  till  I  had  to.     Nate  had  heard  about 


OZONE  ISLAND  89 

the  pig  chase  and  Hartley's  doings  over  there  and 
he  pestered  the  life  out  of  me  with  questions  about 
that. 

"  Queer  that  boy  should  turn  out  to  be  his 
brother,  wa'n't  it?"  he  says. 

"Whose  brother?"  says  I,  leaning  out  over 
the  yawl's  side  and  watching  for  signs  of  the  Dora 
Bassett. 

"  Why,  Hartley's,"  says  he. 

"Brother!"  says  I.  "  'Twan't  his  brother. 
No  relation  to  him." 

"  I  heard  different,"  he  says.  "  I  heard  'twas 
his  brother,  name  of  Oscar  Dennis.  And  that 
woman  from  the  school  was  his  brother's  wife. 
Some  says  she  ain't  living  with  her  husband  and 
some  say  Hartley's  right  name  is  Dennis  and  that 
she's  his  wife  and  he  was  down  here  hiding  from 
her.  Seems  when  that  boy  first  dove  into  the 
crowd  'twas  because  he'd  seen  Hartley.  They 
say  that  when  that  woman  and  this  Hartley  met, 
she  sings  out,  '  My  God !  my  husband ! '  That's 
what  some  says  she  said,  and  others  says " 

"  She  never  said  no  such  thing,"  I  says.  "  She 
wouldn't  swear  if  he  was  her  husband  four  times 
over;  she  ain't  that  kind.  And  she  ain't  his  wife 
nor  his  sister  nor  his  sister-in-law  nor  his  grand- 


90  MR.  PRATT 

mothers  cat's  aunt,  neither.  She's  no  relation  to 
him  and  neither's  the  boy.  Who's  been  giving  you 
all  this  rigmarole?  " 

It  seems  he'd  heard  it  from  a  feller  that  lived 
next  door  to  Ebenezer;  and  the  feller  had  heard  it 
from  somebody  else  that  had  got  it  from  some- 
body else  and  so  on  and  so  on  and  so  on.  Nigh's 
I  could  find  out  it  had  started  from  Hartley's  tell- 
ing me  that  the  boy  was  a  "  brother  outcast.'* 
Some  idiot  with  poor  ears  and  worse  brains  had 
thought  he  said  "  brother  Oscar,"  and  the  whole 
string  of  yarns  had  sprouted  from  that.  Shows 
you  what  good  soil  there  is  for  planting  lies  down 
our  way.  If  lies  was  fetching  ten  cents  a  barrel 
the  whole  neighborhood  would  have  been  rich 
years  ago. 

All  the  time  me  andNate  was  pow-wowing  this 
way  the  yawl  was  sailing  up  the  bay  towing  my 
skiff  behind  her.  There  was  a  nice  fair  wind  and 
a  smooth  sea  and  'twas  so  clear  after  the  rain,  that 
we  could  see  the  hills  across  the  bay.  But  no  sign 
could  we  see  of  the  Dora  Bassett  nor  her  passen- 
gers.    I  was  getting  more  worried  every  minute. 

We  cruised  along  till  we  got  abreast  of  the  point 
from  where  the  Old  Home  pier  was  in  sight.  But 
the  sloop  wa'n't  at  the  pier.     No  use  going  any 


OZONE  ISLAND  91 

farther,  so  we  come  about  and  begun  to  beat  back 
again  the  way  we'd  come.  Scudder  was  worried 
too,  but  his  worriment  had  caught  him  in  the 
pocketbook;  proves  how  disease  will  always  get 
hold  of  a  feller's  tenderest  place. 

"Look  here,  Sol,"  says  he;  "do  you  cal'late 
Hartley  '11  want  to  stay  to  my  house  if  his  chum's 
drowned?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  says,  impatient.  "  No,  I 
guess  not." 

"  Well  now,  he  agreed  to  take  it  for  a  month 
and  there's  five  days  to  run  yet.  Ain't  he  liable 
for  them  days?  "  he  says. 

I  was  feeling  just  mean  enough  to  want  some- 
body else  to  feel  that  way,  so  I  answers, 

"  Well,  you  can't  hold  a  lunatic,  'cording  to 
law.  And  you  and  Huldy  Ann  have  agreed  that 
he's  crazy." 

He  thumped  the  boat's  rail.  "  Crazy  or  not," 
says  he,  "I  can't  afford  to  lose  them  days.  I 
shan't  give  him  back  none  of  his  money."  Then 
he  thought  a  minute  and  begun  to  see  a  speck  of 
comfort.  "  Maybe  the  shock  of  t'other  feller's 
drowning  '11  make  him  sick,"  he  says.  "  Then 
he'll  have  to  stay  longer  than  the  month." 

Trust  Nate  Scudder  to  see  a  silver  lining  to  any 


92  MR.  PRATT 

cloud — and  then  rip  out  the  lining  and  put  it  in 
his  pocket. 

By  this  time  we  was  beating  in  towards  where 
the  Neck  Road  comes  down  to  the  beach.  And 
there  on  the  shore  was  a  feller  hailing  us.  And 
when  we  got  close  in  it  turned  out  to  be  Hartley 
himself. 

He  was  glad  enough  to  see  me,  but  when  he 
found  that  Van  and  Lord  James  had  turned  up 
missing  he  was  in  a  state.  He'd  been  kind  of 
scared  when  we  didn't  come  back  during  the  night 
and  had  walked  down  to  the  beach  in  the  morning 
to  see  if  he  could  sight  us. 

We  headed  off  shore  again.  Nate  watched 
Hartley  pretty  close  and  I  suppose  when  he  seen 
that  the  Twin  didn't  show  any  symptoms  of  getting 
sick,  he  begun  to  worry  again.  He  got  out  a  piece 
of  pencil  and  an  old  envelope  and  commenced  to 
figure. 

11  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  he,  after  awhile;  "  about 
them  lady  friends  of  yours  over  to  Eastwich.  Do 
you  cal'late  they're  going  to  like  where  they  are? 
Seems  to  me  a  place  that's  as  easy  to  run  away  from 
as  that  ain't  the  best  place  for  a  boy's  school.  If 
they  was  on  an  island  now,  the  scholars  couldn't 
run  off.     I  know  a  nice  island  they  could  have 


OZONE  ISLAND  95 

cheap.  Fact  is,  I  own  it — that  is,  Huldy  owns  it; 
it's  in  her  name.     That's  it  over  there." 

Hartley  didn't  answer.  I  looked  where  Nate 
was  pointing. 

"Oh!"  says  I.  "  Horsefoot  Bar.  That's  a 
healthy  place  for  a  school.  Might  do  for  a 
reform  school  maybe,  if  you  wa'n't  particular  how 
the  reforming  was  done." 

Horsefoot  Bar  is  a  little  island  about  five  mile 
from  the  Old  Home  House,  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
the  mainland,  and  two  foot  from  the  jumping-off 
place.  By  the  help  of  Providence,  decent  weather, 
a  horse,  two  whips,  and  a  boat,  you  can  make  it 
from  Wellmouth  depot  in  three  hours.  And 
when  you  have  made  it,  you  can  set  in  the  sand 
and  hang  on  to  your  hat  and  listen  to  the  lone- 
someness.  I'd  forgot  that  Scudder  owned  it. 
When  him  and  I  had  sailed  up  that  morning  we'd 
passed  it  on  the  outside;  now  we  was  between  it 
and  the  beach. 

"  It's  a  nice  dry  place,"  says  Nate,  arguing, 
"  and  you  might  live  there  forever  and  nobody 
could  run  away." 

"  Humph !  "  says  I,  thinking  of  something  I'd 
seen  in  a  newspaper;  "  Hell's  got  all  them  recom- 
mendations." 


^4  MR.  PRATT 

Hartley  was  looking  at  the  Bar  now.  All  to 
once  he  grabbed  me  by  the  arm  and  pointed. 

"  Sol,"  he  says,  "  what's  that  sticking  up  over 
the  point  there?  There,  behind  those  trees? 
Isn't  it  a  boat's  mast?  " 

I  looked,  and  looked  once  more.  From  where 
we  was  you  could  see  a  part  of  Horsefoot  Bar  that 
was  out  of  sight  from  the  rest  of  the  bay.  As  I 
say,  I  looked.  Then  I  gave  the  tiller  a  shove  that 
brought  the  boom  across  with  a  slat.  It  took 
JNate's  hat  with  it  and  cracked  him  on  the  bald  spot 
like  thumping  a  ripe  watermelon.  Nate  grabbed 
for  the  hat  and  I  drove  the  yawl  for  Horsefoot 
Bar.  I'd  spied  the  Dora  Basset? s  mast  over  the 
sandspit. 

In  a  jiffy  we  see  her  plain.  She  was  lying  on 
fier  side  in  a  little  cove,  just  as  the  tide  had 
left  her.  Her  canvas  was  down  in  a  heap, 
partly  on  deck  and  partly  overboard,  but  she 
didn't  seem  to  be  hurt  none.  I  beached  the 
yawl  just  alongside  of  her,  dropped  the  sail, 
chucked  over  the  anchor  and  jumped  over  my- 
self. Hartley  and  Scudder  followed.  We  was 
yelling  like  loons. 

Up  through  the  bunch  of  scrub  pines  we  tore, 
still  hollering.     And  then,  from  away  off  ahead 


OZONE  ISLAND  95 

somewheres,  come  the  answer.  I  was  so  tickled 
I  could  have  stood  on  my  head. 

In  a  minute  here  comes  Lord  James  to  meet  us. 
His  Lordship  looked  yellow  and  faded,  like  a 
wilted  sunflower,  and  his  whiskers  seemed  to  be 
running  to  seed.  But  his  dignity  was  on  deck  all 
right. 

"  Mr.  'Artley,"  says  he,  touching  what  was  left 
of  his  hat;  "  'ope  you're  well,  sir." 

11  Where's  Van?  "  asked  Hartley,  brisk. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  sir?  Up  at  the  'ouse,  wait- 
ing for  you,  sir." 

"  The  house?  "  says  Hartley. 

"  The  house!  "  says  I.     Then  I  remembered. 

There  is  a  house  on  Horsefoot  Bar.  It  was 
built  by  old  man  Marcellus  Berry,  and  in  Marcel- 
lus's  day  they  built  houses,  didn't  stick  'em  to- 
gether with  wall  paper  and  a  mortgage,  like  they 
do  now.  Consequence  is  that,  though  the  winter 
weather  on  Horsefoot  made  Marcellus  lay  down 
a  considerable  spell  ago,  his  house  still  stands,  as 
pert  and  sassy  an  old  gable-ended  jail  as  ever  was. 
The  house  was  there,  and  Scudder  owned  it. 
Likewise  he  owned  the  sheds  and  barn  in  back,  and 
the  sickly  bunch  of  scrub  pines,  and  the  beach  plum 
bushes,  and  the  beach  grass  and  the  poverty  grass, 


96  MR.  PRATT 

and  the  world-without-end  of  sand  that  all  these 
things  was  stuck  up  in.  As  for  the  live  stock,  that 
was  seven  thousand  hop-toads,  twenty  million  sand 
fleas,  and  green-heads  and*mosquitoes  forever  and 
ever,  amen. 

We  fell  into  the  valet's  wake  and  waded  through 
the  sand  hummocks  up  to  the  house.  And  there 
on  the  piazza,  sitting  in  a  busted  cane-seat  chair 
with  his  feet  cocked  up  on  the  railing  and  the  regu- 
lation cigar  in  his  mouth,  was  Van  Brunt,  kind  of 
damp  and  wrinkled  so  far  as  clothes  went,  but 
otherwise  as  serene  and  chipper  a  Robinson  Crusoe 
as  the  average  man  is  likely  to  strike  in  one  life 
time. 

Wa'n't  we  glad  to  see  him!  And  he  was  just 
as  glad  to  see  us. 

"  Hello,  skipper,"  says  he,  reaching  out  his 
hand.  "  So  you  got  ashore  all  right.  Good 
enough.  I  was  a  bit  fearful  for  you  after  you  left 
us  last  night." 

After  I  left  him!  I  liked  that.  And  he  was 
fearful  for  me. 

"  Humph!  "  says  I,  "  I  had  a  notion  that  'twas 
you  that  did  the  leaving.  Talk  about  dropping  an 
acquaintance!  I  never  was  dropped  like  that 
afore !     Look  here,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  afore  you  and 


OZONE  ISLAND  97 

me  go  to  sea  together  again  we'll  have  a  little 
lesson  in  running  rigging.  I  want  to  learn  you 
what  a  mainsheet  is." 

"  Oh,"  he  says,  careless  like,  "  I  guess  I  found 
it,  after  a  while.  At  any  rate  if  it's  a  rope  I  cut 
it.     I  cut  all  the  ropes  in  sight." 

"  You  did?  "  says  I,  with  my  mouth  open. 

"  Yes.  That's  an  acrobatic  boat  of  yours ;  it 
seemed  to  want  to  turn  somersets.  I  judged  that 
that  sail  made  it  top-heavy  so  I  told  James  to  take 
the  sail  down.  He  didn't  know  how  but  we  de- 
cided that  the  ropes  must  have  something  to  do 
with  it.  So  I  cut  'em,  one  after  the  other,  and  the 
sail  came  down." 

"Sudden?  "says  I. 

"  Well,  fairly  so.  Some  of  it  was  in  the  water 
and  the  rest  of  it  on  James.  I  resurrected  him 
finally  and  we  pulled  most  of  it  into  the  boat.  It 
went  better  then." 

"  Did,  hey?  "  says  I.  I  was  learning  seaman- 
ship fast. 

"  Yes,"  says  he.  "  If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't 
have  any  sail  on  that  boat.  She  does  much  better 
without  one.  Then  it  began  to  rain  and  I  got 
some  of  the  dry  sail  over  me.  I  believe  I  went  to 
sleep  then — or  soon  after." 


98  MR.  PRATT 

Nate  Scudder's  eyes  was  big  as  preserve  dishes. 
I  guess  mine  was  bigger  still. 

11  Good  Lord!  "  says  I.  "  Did  his — did  James 
go  to  sleep  too?  " 

"  No,"  says  Van.  "  I  think  not.  I  believe 
James  was  holding  some  sort  of  religious  service. 
How  about  it,  James?  " 

His  Lordship  looked  sheepish.  "  Well,  sir," 
he  says.  "  I  don't  know  sir.  I  may  'ave  been  a 
bit  nervous ;  I'm  not  used  to  a  boat,  sir." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  your  praying,  James,"  Van 
says,  sober  as  a  deacon;  "if  you  didn't  yell  so. 
However,  we  got  here  on  this  island  about  five 
o'clock,  I  believe.  Rather,  the  boat  came  here 
herself;  we  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with 
it" 

I  never  in  my  life!  They  say  the  Almighty 
looks  out  for  the  lame  and  the  lazy.  Van  Brunt 
wa'n't  lame,  but 

"  Well,"  says  I.  "  I'll  believe  in  special  Provi- 
dences after  this." 

Van  jumped  out  of  the  chair. 

"  By  George !  "  he  sings  out.  "  Talking  of 
special  Providences;  Martin,  come  here." 

He  grabbed  t'other  Twin  by  the  arm  and  led 
him  down  off  the  piazza  and  up  to  the  top  of  a 


OZONE  ISLAND  99 

little  hill  near  the  house.  The  rest  of  us  followed 
without  being  invited.  I  know  you  couldn't  have 
kept  me  back  with  a  chain  cable.  I  haven't  visited 
many  asylums  and  I  wanted  to  see  the  patients 
perform. 

"  Look  here,  Martin,"  says  Van,  when  we  got 
to  the  top  of  the  hill.     "  Look  around  you." 

We  all  looked,  I  guess;  I  know  I  did.  There 
was  the  old  Berry  house,  square  and  weather- 
beat  and  gray.  And  there  was  a  derelict  barn 
and  a  half  dozen  pig  pens  and  hen  houses  stranded 
alongside  of  it.  And  there  was  Horsefoot  Bar 
all  around  us  for  a  half  mile  or  so,  sand  and 
beach  grass  and  hop-toads,  all  complete.  And 
beyond  on  one  side  was  the  bay,  with  the  water 
looking  blue  and  pretty  in  the  forenoon  sunshine. 
And  on  t'other  side  was  the  mile  and  a  half  strip 
we'd  just  sailed  across,  with  the  beach  and  main- 
land over  yonder.  Not  a  soul  but  us  in  sight  any- 
wheres. The  whole  lay-out  would  have  made  a 
first-rate  photograph  of  the  last  place  the  Lord 
made;  the  one  He  forgot  to  finish. 

"Look  at  it!"  hollers  Van.  "Look  at  it! 
Now  what  is  it?  " 

I  begun  to  be  sorry  the  keeper  hadn't  arrived 
that  time  when  I  thought  he  was  coming.     I  cal'- 


ioo  MR.  PRATT 

lated  he  was  needed  right  now.  Martin  seemed 
to  think  so,  too.     He  looked  puzzled. 

"What  is  it?"  he  says.  "What's  what? 
What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Why  this  whole  business.  Island  and  house 
and  scenery  and  quiet  and  all.  You  old  block- 
head !  "  hollers  Van,  giving  the  other  Twin  an 
everlasting  bang  on  the  back;  "  Don't  you  see? 
It's  what  we've  been  looking  for  all  these  weeks — 
it's  the  pure,  unadulterated,  accept-no-imitations 
Natural  Life!  " 

I  set  down  in  the  sand.  Things  were  coming 
too  fast  for  me.  If  this  kept  on  I'd  be  counting 
my  fingers  and  playing  cat's  cradle  along  with  the 
rest  of  the  loons  pretty  soon.     I  knew  it. 

But,  would  you  believe  it,  Martin  Hartley  didn't 
seem  to  think  his  chum  was  out  of  his  mind.  He 
fetched  a  long  breath. 

II  By  Jove!  "  he  says,  slow;  "  I  don't  know  but 
you're  right." 

"Right?  You  bet  I'm  right !  It's  been  grow- 
ing on  me  ever  since  I  landed.  We'll  be  alone; 
no  females,  native  or  imported,  to  bother  us. 
Here's  a  bully  old  house  with  some  furniture,  bed- 
steads and  so  on,  already  in  it.  I  broke  a  window 
and  climbed  in  for  a  rummage.     Jolliest  old  ark 


OZONE  ISLAND  101 

you  ever  saw.  Here's  a  veranda  to  sit  on,  and  air 
to  breathe,  and  a  barn  for  a  cow,  and  plenty  of 
room  for  a  garden  and  chickens — whew!  Man 
alive,  it's  Paradise!  And  I  want  to  locate  the 
man  that  owns  it.     I  want  to  find  him  quick." 

He  didn't  have  to  say  it  but  once.  Nate  Scud- 
der  was  so  full  of  joy  that  he  had  to  shove  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  to  keep  from  hugging  himself. 

"  /  own  it,"  he  says. 

"  You  do!  Scudder,  you're  a  gem.  I  begin 
to  love  you  like  a  brother.  Martin  and  I  hire  this 
place;  do  you  understand?  It's  ours  from  this 
minute,  for  as  long  as  we  want  it." 

Nate  commenced  to  hem  and  haw.  "  Well,  I 
don't  know,"  he  says.  "  I  don't  know's  I  ought 
to  let  you  have  it.  There's  been  considerable 
many  folks  after  it,  and " 

11  Never  mind.  They  can't  have  it.  We  out- 
bid'em.     See?" 

"  What  will  we  do  for  groceries?  "  asks  Hart- 
ley considering. 

"  Scudder  '11  bring  'em  to  us,"  says  Van. 
"Won't  you,  Scudder?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  I'm 
pretty  busy  now,  and " 

"  We'll  pay  you  for  your  time,  of  course." 


io2  MR.  PRATT 

11  What  about  beds  and  cooking  utensils  and 
so  on?  "  asks  Hartley,  considering  some  more. 

11  Scudder'll  buy  'em  for  us  somewheres." 

"  And  milk,  and  eggs,  and  butter?  " 

"  Scudder — till  we  get  our  own  chickens  and  cow." 

"And — er — well,  a  cook?  Who'll  do  the 
cooking  ?  " 

Van  Brunt  stoops  down  and  slaps  me  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Pratt,"  says  he.  "  Pratt  will  come  here  and 
cook  for  us,  and  navigate  us,  and  be  our  general 
manager.     Pratt's  the  boy!  " 

11  Hold  on  there !  "  I  sings  out.  "  Avast  hear- 
ing, will  you.  If  you  think  for  one  minute  that 
I'm  going  to  quit  my  summer  job  to  come  to  this 
hole  and  live,  you're " 

"  You're  coming,"  says  Van.  "  Never  mind 
the  price ;  we'll  pay  it.  Now  shut  up !  you're 
coming." 

What  can  you  say  to  a  chap  like  that?  I 
groaned. 

"  Live  on  Horsefoot  Bar,"  I  says.  "Live  on 
it!" 

"Horsefoot  Bar?"  says  Van.  "Is  that  its 
name  ?  Well,  it's  Horsefoot  Bar  no  more.  I've 
been    evolving    a   name   ever   since    I   began    to 


OZONE  ISLAND  rc^ 

breathe  here.  Breathe,  Martin,"  he  says.  "  Draw 
a  good  breath.  That's  it.  That's  pure  ozone. 
Gentlemen,  permit  me  to  introduce  to  you,  Ozotter 
Island." 

Scudder  grinned.  He  was  feeling  ready  to  grim 
at  most  anything  just  then. 

"Ozone  Island?"  says  Hartley.  "Ozone: 
Island.  A  restful  name.  Well,  it's  a  restful, 
spot.     Isn't  it,  skipper?  " 

11  Yes,"  says  I.  "  As  restful  as  being  buried 
alive;  and  pretty  nigh  as  pleasant." 


CHAPTER   VII 
SWEET  SIMPLICITY 

jk  ND  so  that's  how  they  begun  to  live  the 
/%  Natural  Life,  what  Van  called  the  "  ac- 
^  ^  cept-no-imitations  "  kind.  I  say  "  they  " 
but  I  ought  to  have  said  "  we  "  for  I  was  in  it.  I 
was  in  it  over  head  and  hands  from  that  time  on. 
I  didn't  mean  to  be.  When  I  said  I  wouldn't  emi- 
grate to  Horsefoot  Ozone  and  be  cook  and  gen- 
eral roustabout  for  the  Heavenly  Twins  I  was  just 
as  certain  I  meant  what  I  said  as  a  body  could  be. 

"  No,"  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  Van. 

"How  can  I  leave  the  Old  Home  folks?"  I 
says. 

'*  How  can  you  leave  us?  "  he  says. 

"  But  you've  got  James." 

**  Yes,  but  James  hasn't  got  us." 

*'  But  I  can't  afford  to  come,"  says  I. 

"  You  can't  afford  to  do  anything  else,"  says  he. 

And  that's  about  what  it  amounted  to — I 
104 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  105 

couldn't  afford  to  do  nothing  else.  The  wages 
kept  jumping  like  summer  folks'  bids  at  one  of 
them  auction  sales  of  "  antiques."  I  seemed  to 
be  as  valuable  as  grandmother's  busted  hair  cloth 
sofa.  If  I'd  hung  out  long  enough  I  cal'late  the 
Heavenlies  would  have  fixed  me  so  I'd  have  begun 
to  feel  'twas  a  crime  to  die  rich.  /  give  in  first ;  I 
want  everybody  to  understand  that. 

"All  right,"  says  I.  "That'll  do;  I'll  come. 
But  I  hope  you'll  pay  me  in  a  dark  room.  I'll  be 
ashamed  to  look  you  in  the  face  and  take  that 
much  money." 

They  said  they  was  satisfied  if  I  was.  I  was 
satisfied,  all  but  my  conscience.  Made  me  wish 
I  could  swop  consciences  with  Scudder. 

Nate's  conscience  wasn't  worrying  him  any ;  you 
can  bet  on  that.  I  wa'n't  around  when  he  made 
the  deal  for  renting  'em  the  island,  but,  from  what 
I  heard  afterwards,  the  price  would  have  been 
high  if  he'd  been  selling  it  to  'em  by  the  pound 
to  scour  knives  with.  He  agreed  to  get  bedding 
for  'em  and  tin  things,  and  a  pig,  and  crockery, 
and  hens,  and  groceries,  and  boards  to  tinker  up 
the  barn  with,  and  anything  else  that  might  come 
in  handy.  Likewise  he  was  to  fetch  and  carry 
for  'em  between  the  village  and  the  island;  so 


io6  MR.  PRATT 

much  to  fetch  and  twice  that  to  carry.  And 
Huldy  Ann  was  to  do  the  washing. 

When  the  Twins  told  me  about  it  you'd  think 
they'd  just  pulled  through  one  of  them  stock 
"  deals  "  of  theirs,  and  come  out  on  top. 

"  Isn't  it  great?  "  crows  Van,  happy  as  a  clam 
at  high  water.  "  We've  arranged  it  all.  Every- 
thing is  provided  for  and  will  be  done." 

I  could  see  two  things  that  was  going  to  be  done 
— brown ;  but  I  didn't  say  nothing. 

"  It's  mighty  good  of  Scudder  to  accommodate 
us  this  way,"  says  Hartley.  "  He's  a  gem,  a 
rough  diamond." 

"  Scudder,"  says  Van,  "  is  one  of  Nature's 
noblemen." 

Of  course  'twa'n't  none  of  my  funeral;  I 
couldn't  interfere.  But  I'm  a  democrat  myself, 
so  the  nobility  don't  appeal  to  me  much,  and  if 
Nate  Scudder's  a  diamond  I'm  glad  I  can't  afford 
jewelry. 

The  next  day  was  a  busy  one  for  all  hands,  each 
in  his  own  particular  line.  Nate  commenced  run- 
ning "  accommodation  "  trains,  so  to  speak,  be- 
tween his  house  and  the  village  and  Horsefoot 
Bar — Ozone  Island,  I  should  say.  As  for  me,  I 
went  up  to  the  Old  Home  House  right  off,  ex- 


SJVEET  SIMPLICITY  107 

plained  matters  to  the  manager,  and  cleared  out 
for  my  new  job.  The  Heavenlies  moved  over  to 
Ozone  that  very  morning.  Lord  James  went  with 
'em  and  the  simple  naturalness  commenced. 

Fast  as  Nate  would  arrive  in  his  dory  with  a 
cargo  of  dunnage  I'd  cart  it  up  to  the  Berry  house 
and  dump  it  on  the  piazza.  Lord  James  was  fly- 
ing around,  with  a  face  on  him  as  sour  as  a  cran- 
berry pie,  opening  windows  and  airing  rooms  and 
sweeping  out,  and  the  like  of  that.  The  old  she- 
bang had  been  shut  up  for  a  couple  of  years  and 
was  as  musty  and  damp  as  a  receiving  tomb.  His 
Lordship  looked  like  the  head  mourner;  this  kind 
of  work  jarred  his  dignity. 

"  Look  a-'ere,  Pratt,"  says  he  to  me.  "  'Ow 
long  do  you  think  we're  going  to  stay  'ere?  " 

"Where?"  says  I,  sliding  a  trunk  and  a  coal 
hod  off  my  shoulders,  and  mopping  my  forehead 
with  my  shirt-sleeve. 

"  Why  'ere,  on  this  'orrible  sand  'eap." 

"  You  want  to  be  careful,"  says  I,  "  how  you 
call  names.  This  is  Ozone  Horsefoot  Island,  and 
it's  a  branch  station  of  Paradise.  Didn't  you  hear 
the  boss  say  so?  " 

11  But  'ow  long  are  we  going  to  stay  'ere?  "  he 
says  again. 


io8  MR.  PRATT 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  when  a  feller  gets  to  Paradise 
it's  the  general  idea  that  he's  there  for  keeps. 
What  are  you  growling  about?  Such  a  nice  rest- 
ful spot,  too.     Don't  you  like  to  be  restful  ?  " 

He  looked  at  his  hands,  they  was  all  over  blisters 
from  the  broom. 

"  Restful!  "  he  groans.     "  Good  'eavens!  " 

"  Come,  James,"  says  Hartley,  loafing  around 
the  corner,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  "  Get  a 
move  on.  We  must  have  this  house  in  order  by 
to-night." 

The  Twins  was  awful  busy,  too.  They  done 
the  heavy  superintending.  Hartley  superintended 
the  house  and  piazza  and  Van  Brunt  bossed  the  un- 
loading and  trucking  of  the  dunnage  from  the 
dory.  As  for  me,  I  was  the  truck.  After  the 
first  day  was  over  I  could  see  that  all  the  natural 
living  I'd  done  in  my  time  wa'n't  the  real  thing  at 
all.     Not  a  circumstance  to  it. 

I  carted  dunnage  all  the  forenoon.  Then  I 
cooked  dinner  and  washed  dishes.  James  was 
going  to  help  me  wipe  'em  but  Van's  clothes  had 
got  wet  when  he  was  adrift  in  the  Dora  Bassett 
and  they  had  to  be  pressed.  So  I  wiped  and 
cleaned  up  and  carted  more  dunnage,  including 
stove  pipe  and  blankets  and  flour  and  quilts  and 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY 


109 


nails  and  pork  and  pillows  and  a  rake  and  sugar, 
and  the  land  knows  what.  Then  I  cooked  supper* 
And  how  them  Paradise  tenants  did  eat! 

"  By  gad,  you  know !  "  busts  out  Van  Brimf, 
with  his  mouth  full;  "  this  is  what  we've  been  look- 
ing for,  Martin.     This  is  getting  back  to  nature/* 

Hartley  grunted,  being  too  busy  with  a  fried 
mackerel  to  talk  with  comfort.  But  it  was  easy 
to  see  he  was  satisfied. 

They  went  on,  bragging  about  how  good  it  was 
to  cut  loose  from  the  fight  and  worry  of  the  Street. 
At  last,  according  to  Van,  they  realized  that  life 
was  worth  living. 

"  No  more  speculation  for  me,"  he  says,  joyful, 
11  No  more  fretting  about  margins.  I  don't  gr?e 
a  continental  if  the  bottom  drops  out  of  the  market 
and  carries  the  sides  with  it.  I  hereby  solemnly 
swear  for  the  fifth  time  never  to  buy  another  share 
of  stock." 

Then  he  reaches  after  another  half-acre  slab  o€ 
my  johnny-cake. 

Lord  James  was  upstairs  in  the  sleeping  vaults 
sorting  out  bed  clothes.  The  sheets  and  blanket* 
and  things  was  more  or  less  mixed  up  with  tfce 
hardware  and  groceries.  I  was  out  in  the  kitchen* 
getting  ready  a  second  relay  of  mackerel.    The 


aio 


MR.  PRATT 


dining-room  door  was  open,  so  I  could  see  and  hear 
everything. 

"  By  the  way,  Martin,"  says  Van,  buttering  the 
johnny-cake,  "  how  did  Agnes  look?     Well?  " 

**'  Yes,"  says  Hartley,  short. 

**  She  must  have  been  surprised  to  see  you. 
"Did  you  tell  her  we  were  naturalized  citizens,  or 
•on  the  road  to  it?  " 

41  No." 

""No?  Why  not?  She  probably  thinks  that 
we're  down  here  organizing  another  syndicate. 
I«br  a  girl  whose  mother  is  of  the  world  worldly, 
Agnes  has  developed  queer  ideas.  I  suppose  I 
<©ught  to  go  over  and  see  her,"  he  went  on. 
M  You  said  she  had  another  girl  with  her.     Who 

is  it? " 

"  Margaret  Talford." 

'"  Talf ord — Talford?  One  of  the  Newport 
Xalfords?  Oh,  I  know.  Pretty  little  girl,  dark 
liair  and  brown  eyes,  and — and  a  way  with  her?  " 

**  I  guess  so.  Very  likely.  I  haven't  seen 
fier." 

Wan  seemed  to  be  thinking.  "  I'll  go  over  to- 
morrow," he  says. 

Then  he  commenced  to  whoop  for  more  mack- 
erel and  'twas  time  for  me  to  load  up  the  platter. 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  m 

I  thought  I'd  cooked  supper  enough  for  six  men, 
but  when  the  Twins  got  through  I  had  to  fry 
another  ration  for  me  and  Lord  James.  Eat !  I 
never  see  such  sharks  in  my  life. 

When  they'd  finished  everything  on  the  table, 
except  the  knives  and  forks  and  the  dishes,  the 
Heavenlies  went  outside  to  smoke  cigars  and  prom- 
enade up  and  down  the  beach.  His  Lordship  and 
I  set  down  to  have  a  bite  ourselves. 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "  that  Page  girl  is  a  good  looker, 
ain't  she?" 

He  was  horrified,  same  as  he  always  was  when 
you  mentioned  the  New  York  big  bugs  without 
getting  up  and  bowing. 

"  Miss  Page,"  says  he,  "  is  a  member  of  one  of 
our  first  families." 

"  Want  to  know,"  says  I.     "  First  in  what?  " 

"  First  in  everything,"  he  says.  "  Her  father 
was  one  of  our  oldest  residents." 

"So?"  says  I.  "Oldest  inhabitant,  hey?  I 
suppose  he  could  remember  way  back  afore  the 
town  hall  was  built,  and  about  the  hard  winter  of 
'38,  and  how  his  ma's  cousin  used  to  do  chores  for 
George  Washington." 

I  knew  pretty  well  what  he  meant,  but,  you  see, 
I  liked  to  stir  him  up.     He  was  such  an  innocent 


,,2  MR.  PRATT 

critter;  always  swallowed  hook,  line  and  sinker. 
It  done  me  good  to  see  him  stare  at  me  after  I 
said  things  like  this. 

All  he  said  now  though  was  "  'Orrors!  " 

"  How  about  your  boss,  this  Van  Brunt?  "  says 
I.     "  He's  another  first  rater,  hey?  " 

The  Van  Brunts  was  even  more  "  first  families  " 
than  the  Pages,  so  the  valet  said.  They'd  been 
there  ever  since  New  York  was  built.  'Twas 
their  ancestors  that  got  up  the  first  barn-raising,  or 
words  to  that  effect. 

"And  Hartley?"  says  I. 

That  was  different.  The  Hartleys  was  another 
breed  of  cats.  Martin's  dad  was  born  in  Chicago 
or  somewheres  outside  of  New  York.  He'd  re- 
pented of  it,  of  course,  and  tried  to  live  it  down, 
but  he  never  had  been  quite  the  big  apples  on  the 
top  layer,  like  the  Van  Brunts.  He  was  dead 
now,  old  man  Hartley  was;  been  dead  three  or 
four  years. 

"  How  about  ma?  "  says  I. 

She  was  dead,  too;  died  a  year  or  more  ago. 
Martin  was  an  orphan. 

And  then  I  cal'lated  it  was  about  time  to  heave 
out  the  question  that  I'd  been  leading  up  to  all 
along. 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  113 

"  What  made  the  Page  girl  cut  loose  from  him 
and  take  up  with  Van?  "  I  says.  "  She  don't  look 
like  the  kind  that  would  be  too  hard  on  a  chap  just 
because  his  dad  made  the  mistake  of  being  born  out 
of  township  limits." 

Lord  James  fidgeted  some  over  that.  First  he 
said  he  didn't  know. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  let's  guess  then.  Guessing's 
a  good  Yankee  trick  and  you'd  ought  to  have 
picked  it  up  by  this  time.     You  guess  first." 

He  didn't  want  to  guess,  but  I  kept  at  him, 
throwing  out  all  sorts  of  foolish  maybes  and  per- 
hapses.     Finally  he  got  tired  of  saying  "  No." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  says  he.  "  I  'eard  as  'ow 
'twas  because  'e  was  too  mercenary.  'E  was  an 
awful  chap  in  the  Street  after  'is  old  man  died.  'E 
was  there  night  and  day.  'Ardly  came  'ome  at 
all." 

"  Humph !  "  says  I.  "  I'd  never  suspicioned  it 
to  look  at  him.     Wa'n't  he  doing  well  at  his  job  ?  " 

Lord  James  said  it  wa'n't  that.  Said  he  was 
doing  mighty  well.  Folks  was  calling  him  a 
"born  financier  "  and  all  sorts  of  names. 

"  So?  "  says  I.  "  Then  I  don't  see  that  Miss 
Page  had  any  complaints.  'Tain't  usual  for  a 
young  woman  to  kick  because  her  steady  company 


ii4  MR.  PRATT 

is  making  too  much  money.  There's  something 
else.     Out  with  it.     I'll  keep  my  mouth  shut." 

So  then  he  told  me  a  little — much  as  he  knew,  I 
guess  likely.  Seems  that  he  was  acquainted  with 
the  feller  they  call  the  butler — sort  of  a  steward,  I 
judged  he  was — over  at  the  Page  girl's  house. 
And  this  butler  was  sweet  on  the  "  maid  " — the 
young  woman  valet  who  took  care  of  Agnes's  duds 
and  spare  rigging.  And  one  night  this  maid  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  "  conservatory  " — which  I  pre- 
sumed likely  was  the  high-toned  name  for  the  pre- 
serve closet — and  Miss  Page  and  Hartley  was  in 
the  setting  room.  And  Agnes  was  laying  into 
Martin  for  staying  down  town  and  neglecting  her. 

The  maid  said  she  could  hear  only  part  of  the 
talk,  but  'twas  more  than  average  sharp  and  vin- 
egarry.  Agnes  told  Martin  he  was  getting  more 
mercenary  every  day  he  lived.  That  all  he 
thought  of  was  the  office  and  making  money.  She 
detested  a  mercenary,  hard,  money-grasping  man. 
Said  money-loving  was  the  worst  vice  there  was, 
and  she  thanked  God  she  had  none  of  it,  meaning 
vice,  of  course — she  had  money  enough  to  sink  a 
ship. 

Then  Martin  he  speaks  up  proud  and  short  and 
says  he  has  been  working  hard  and  had  been  trying 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  n5 

to  make  money.  Said  he  had  a  good  reason  for 
it,  and  some  day  he  would  tell  her  what  it  was. 
She  said  he  could  tell  her  now  or  hang  his  May- 
baskets  on  somebody  else's  door — or  words  to 
that  effect.  He  says  "Very  well,"  and  she  says 
something  else,  but  the  maid  didn't  hear  it  because 
just  then  old  lady  Page  come  in  and  give  her  her 
walking  papers  for  listening. 

"  And  so,"  says  Lord  James,  "  the  engagement 
was  broke  off.  And  a  good  thing  too,  I  say. 
Wat's  the  use  of  'er  lowering  'erself  to  marry  a 
man  whose  father  got  'is  money  in  trade?  " 

"  How  did  Van's  dad  get  his  money?  "  I  asks. 

"  By  in'eritance,"  says  he.  "  Of  course  Mr. 
Edward  dabbles  in  shares,  but,  Lord  love  you, 
only  for  the  fun  of  it." 

"  How  was  the  inheritance  come  by  in  the  first 
place?  "  says  I.  He  didn't  know,  but  I  found  out 
afterwards.  Grandpa  Van  Brunt  was  an  alder- 
man. 

The  Twins  come  back  into  the  house  then. 
They  come  in  slapping  and  jawing.  I  judged  that 
the  mosquitoes  was  living  the  Natural  Life  too. 
The  Heavenlies  set  down  on  each  side  of  the  fire- 
place— I  had  a  wood  fire  going,  just  for  sociable- 
ness — and  smoked  and  talked. 


ii6  MR.  PRATT 

By  and  by  Van  rummages  out  that  Natural  book 
and  spreads  it  open. 

"  Martin,"  says  he,  "  hark  to  the  voice  of  the 
oracle.  Come  in  here,  skipper,  and  improve  your 
mind." 

But  me  and  his  Lordship  was  improving  the 
dishes  just  then,  and,  when  that  was  done,  he  had 
beds  to  make  and  I  had  bread  to  mix  and  fires  to 
lay  and  wood  to  chop  and  a  couple  of  million  other 
chores  to  do.  The  Twins  read  and  talked  until 
they  got  sleepy,  which  was  about  half  past  nine  or 
so;  earlier  than  usual,  but  neither  of  'em  had  rested 
well  the  night  afore,  I  guess.  Anyhow  they  went 
upstairs  to  turn  in  and  I  kept  on  with  my  work. 
Lord  James  turned  in  too.  He  had  the  back  bed- 
room, the  one  over  the  kitchen. 

'Twas  still  as  still  could  be.  The  door  and  win- 
dows was  open  and  there  wa'n't  a  sound  except  the 
mosquitoes  humming  glad  and  thankful,  and  the 
breeze  whining  in  the  pines  outside  and  the  waves 
moaning  along  the  bay  shore  of  the  island.  Once 
in  awhile  I'd  hear  his  Lordship  thrash  over  in  bed 
and  fetch  a  grunt  or  a  groan  in  his  sleep.  He  had 
one  of  the  late  Marcellus's  cornhusk  mattresses 
and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  there  was  a  cob  end  or 
two  in  with  the  husks.     A  rake  across  the  back 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  u7 

from  a  corn  cob  ain't  the  most  comforting  thing  in 
the  world  even  when  a  feller  is  used  to  it,  and 
Lord  James  had  been  brought  up  tender. 

Pretty  soon  I  went  to  the  back  door  to  throw 
out  some  fish-bones  and  things  and  then  I  heard 
somebody  tramping  through  the  sand  up  to  the 
house.  Neighbors  are  scarcer  than  snake's  finger- 
nails 'round  Horsefoot  Ozone  and  I  couldn't  think 
who  was  coming  at  this  time  of  night.  I  ain't  a 
nervous  chap,  generally  speaking,  but  I  remem- 
bered how  old  Marcellus  had  died  in  this  very 
house  all  sole  alone,  and  the  short  hairs  at  the  back 
of  my  neck  begun  to  bristle  up.  I  cal'lated  if  any- 
thing would  fetch  a  sot  old  codger  like  Marcellus 
out  of  his  grave,  the  doings  of  the  Heavenlies  was 
that  thing. 

But  in  a  minute  more  the  walker  got  into  the 
light  from  the  door  and  I  could  see  him.  And  I 
was  'most  as  much  surprised  as  if  he  had  been 
Marcellus  himself.  'Twas  Nate  Scudder,  with  his 
arms  full  of  bundles. 

"  What  in  the  nation?  "  says  I. 
"  Hello,  Sol,"  says  he.     "  Where's  the  folks?  " 
"  Turned  in,"  says  I.     "  What's  up?  " 
He  seemed  real  disappointed.     Set  the  bundles 
down  on  the  kitchen  table  and  puffed.     That  sand 


n8  MR.  PRATT 

is  hard  walking,  and  nobody  knows  it  better  than 

I  do. 

"Turned  in  so  early,   have  they?"   he   says. 

II  That's  too  bad.     I  wanted  to  see  'em." 

"  Want  me  to  roust  'em  out?  "  I  asks. 

"No,  I  guess  not.  But  they're  nice  folks  as  ever 
I  see  and  I've  fetched  'em  a  few  presents." 

I  flopped  into  a  chair.  I  was  getting  used  to 
surprises,  but  Nate's  giving  anybody  a  present  was 
the  biggest  wonder  yet.  I  figured  that  lunacy  was 
catching  and  we  was  all  going  crazy  together. 

"  Yes,"  says  he.  "  Me  and  Huldy  Ann's  been 
talking  it  over.  They've  hired  this  house  and — 
and — all  the  rest  of  it  and  we  want  'em  to  like 
it.  Don't  want  'em  to  get  tired  and  leave,  you 
see." 

I  see  all  right.  When  the  melon's  getting  ripe 
that's  the  time  to  watch  it. 

"  Yes,"  he  says.  "  I  like  them  young  feller's 
well's  anybody  I  ever  see  and  so  does  Huldy.  We 
got  to  thinking  of  'em  over  here  in  this  big  house 
and  we  wanted  'em  to  feel  at  home;  just  as  if 
'twas  home.  Now  there's  nothing  like  pictures 
and  such  on  the  walls  to  make  a  place  homey.  So 
Huldy  and  me  has  sent  'em  these  few  things  to 
hang  up  'round." 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  u9 

He  commenced  to  undo  the  bundles. 

"  'Twas  Huldy  Ann's  notion,"  he  went  on. 
"  When  she  bought  this  place  at  auction  there  was 
the  furniture  and  fixings  in  it  that  belonged  to 
Marcellus.  Some  of  'em  we  left  here,  beds  and 
chairs  and  the  like  of  that,  and  some  we  took  over 
to  our  house.  There  was  more  than  we  needed 
and  these  is  some  we  had  in  the  attic." 

He'd  got  the  newspapers  and  strings  off  by  this 
time  and  he  spread  the  presents  out  on  the  floor. 
There  was  a  wax  wreath,  from  old  Mrs.  Berry's 
funeral,  in  a  round  case ;  and  a  crayon  enlargement 
of  a  daguerreotype  of  Marcellus  when  he  was 
thirty  or  so ;  he  had  a  fancy  vest  on  and  a  choker 
and  a  fringed-end  necktie,  and  looked  like  he  was 
freezing  to  death  fast  and  knew  it.  Likewise 
there  was  a  shell  work  basket  in  a  shell  frame  with 
about  a  third  of  the  shells  missing;  and  two  silver 
coffin  plates  on  black  velvet;  and  a  worsted  motto 
thing  with  "  What  is  Home  Without  a  Mother  " 
on  it. 

"  There !  "  says  Nate,  Happy  and  generous. 
"  We'll  give  'em  them  things,  Huldy  and  me. 
Leastways  they  can  have  'em  to  look  at  while 
they're  here.  Have  'em  strung  around  on  the  set- 
ting-room walls  and  it  kind  of  takes  off  the  bare 


i2o  MR.  PRATT 

look.  Gives  'em  something  to  think  about  too, 
don't  it?" 

"Yes,"  says  I;  "I  should  think  'twould.  I 
wouldn't  think  of  much  else,  seems  to  me." 

"  Yes,"  says  he.  "  Well,  I  hoped  they  could 
have  'em  to-night  afore  they  went  to  bed.  But 
you  explain  about  'em  in  the  morning.  Tell  'em 
they're  from  me  and  Huldy.  I'll  be  around  after 
breakfast  anyhow  to  fetch  some  more  things  from 
the  store  and  see  if  there  ain't  something  else  I  can 
do.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night,"  says  I,  absent-minded.  / 
couldn't  get  my  mind  off  them  coffin  plates. 

He  kind  of  hesitated. 

"  Oh  say,"  he  says.  "  Did  you  eat  all  of  them 
mackerel  you  had?  If  you  didn't,  and  they're 
likely  to  spoil,  why,  I'll  take  a  couple  along  home 
with  me.     Huldy's  dreadful  fond  of  mackerel." 

"  There  ain't  but  one  left,"  says  I,  "  and " 

11  Oh  well,"  he  says;  "  one  '11  be  enough  for  us. 
We're  awful  small  eaters." 

So  I  trotted  out  the  mackerel  and  he  done  it  up 
in  a  piece  of  the  newspaper  and  went  away  to  his 
dory.  I  lugged  in  the  presents  and  laid  'em  away 
in  the  old  chest  of  drawers  in  the  dining  room. 
Felt  like  an  undertaker,  too,  I  did,  all  the  time  I 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  121 

was  doing  it.  I  didn't  want  the  Heavenlics  to 
see  them  relics  till  they'd  ate  a  good  breakfast — 
they  was  too  much  for  an  empty  stomach.  Then  I 
locked  up  and  took  the  lamp  and  went  to  my  room. 

After  I  got  undressed  I  opened  the  window  and 
leaned  on  the  sill  and  thought.  I  thought  about 
my  new  job  and  what  I  could  see  was  coming  to 
me  in  the  way  of  work,  and  about  Lord  James  and 
Nate  and  all.  And  then  I  thought  of  Hartley 
and  that  Page  girl.  Martin  didn't  act  to  me  like 
a  monry-grabber.  I  couldn't  understand  it.  One 
thing  I  was  sure  of,  them  two  was  meant  for  each 
other  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  they  still  liked  each 
other.  But  there  was  Van  Brunt — I  liked  him 
too. 

Just  then  a  thundering  great  greenhead  bit  me 
on  the  back  of  the  neck  and  I  slammed  down  the 
sash  and  turned  in  on  my  bale  of  corncobs.  Tired ! 
don't  talk! 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS 

I  WAS  up  the  next  morning  about  five  and 
pitched  in  making  biscuit  and  lugging  water 
and  so  on.  Lord  James  comes  poking  down 
after  a  while.     He  looked  pretty  well  used  up. 

11  See  'ere,  Pratt,"  says  he.  "  Wat  they  got 
in  them  blooming  beds — bricks  ?  " 

"Why?"  says  I.     "Was  yours  hard?" 

"  'Ard?  Upon  me  word  I'm  all  full  of  'oles, 
like  a  grater.  My  back  is  that  sore  you  wouldn't 
believe  it.     And  w'at  makes  'em  so  noisy?  " 

11  That's  the  husks,"  says  I.  "  They  do  rustle 
when  a  feller  ain't  used  to  'em." 

"  Rustle !  When  I'd  go  to  roll  over,  upon  me 
word  the  sounds  was  'orrifying.  Like  the  water 
washing  around  that  boat  of  yours,  it  was.  I 
dreamed  about  being  adrift  in  that  awful  boat  all 
night.     About  that  and  ghosts." 

"Ghosts,  hey?     Did  you  dream  of  ghosts?" 

"  That  I  did.     I  could  'ear  'em  groaning." 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        123 

"  'Twas  yourself  that  was  groaning,"  says  I. 
"  A  feller  that  took  aboard  the  cargo  of  supper 
that  you  did  hadn't  ought  to  sleep  on  cornhusks." 

"  I  didn't  sleep ;  not  a  'ealthy  Christian  sleep, 
I  didn't.  I  say,  Pratt,  did  you  ever  'ear  that  this 
old  'ouse  was  'aunted?  " 

14  Well,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  heard 
that  exactly.  But  old  Mrs.  Berry  died  in  it  and 
then  Marcellus  lived  here  alone  till  he  died. 
Seems  to  me  he  died  in  that  room  of  yours,  come 
to  think  of  it,"  says  I,  cheering  him  up. 

He  turned  pale,  instead  of  the  yellow  he'd  been 
lately. 

"  'Oly  Moses !  "  says  he.  "  You  can't  mean 
it." 

11 1  can  mean  more  than  that  without  half  try- 
ing," I  says.  "  Yes,  I  remember  now.  He  did 
die  there  and  they  say  he  died  hard.  Maybe  that 
was  on  account  of  the  bed  though." 

He  was  mighty  upset.  Commenced  to  tell 
about  a  friend  of  his  over  in  "  the  old  country  " 
who  had  been  butler  at  a  place  that  was  haunted. 
I  asked  if  his  friend  had  ever  seen  any  of  the 
spooks. 

"  No,"  says  he,  "  'e  never  saw  'em  'imself,  but 
it  was  a  tradition  in  the  family.     Everybody  knew 


I24  MR.  PRATT 

it.     It  was  a  white  lady,  and  she  used  to  trip  about 
the  'ouse  and  over  the  lawns  nights,"  he  says. 

"  White,  was  she?  "  says  I.  "  Well,  I  suppose 
if  she'd  been  black  they  wouldn't  have  been  able 
to  see  her  in  the  night.  Never  heard  of  a  colored 
ghost  anyway,  did  you?  " 

"  I  mean  she  was  all  dressed  in  white,"  he  says, 
scornful.  "  And  they  say  'twas  'orrid  to  see  her 
a-gliding  around  over  the  grass." 

"  Want  to  know !  "  says  I.  "  Well,  if  you  see 
old  Marcellus  gliding  around  the  hummocks  out- 
side, call  me,  will  you?  I'd  like  to  see  how  he 
manages  to  navigate  through  the  sand.  That's  a 
job  for  a  strong,  healthy  man,  let  alone  a  dead 
one." 

I  guess  he  see  I  didn't  take  much  stock  in  his 
ghost  yarns,  so  he  quit  and  went  to  getting  the 
things  on  the  breakfast  table.  But  he  was  nervous 
and  broke  a  dish  and  sprinkled  forks  and  spoons 
over  the  floor  like  he  was  sowing  'em.  Pretty 
soon  he  had  to  stop  and  hustle  upstairs,  for  the 
Twins  was  shouting  for  their  duds.  For  grown 
men  they  was  the  most  helpless  critters ;  His  Lord- 
ship was  a  sort  of  nurse  to  'em,  as  you  might 
say. 

After  a  while  he  had  'em  dressed  and  ready  and 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        125 

they  come  down  to  breakfast.  Nate  had  brought 
over  feather  beds  for  them,  so  they  had  slept  pretty 
well.  Van  Brunt  was  rigged  up  special  because 
he  was  going  to  Eastwich  that  forenoon  to  see 
his  girl. 

I'd  cooked  a  whopping  big  breakfast  but  'twas 
only  just  enough.  Van  was  a  regular  famine 
breeder  and  Hartley  wa'n't  far  astern  of  him. 
The  Natural  Life  was  agreeing  with  both  of  'em 
fine  so  far.  Martin's  cheeks  was  filling  out  and 
him  and  his  chum  was  sun-burned  to  brick  red. 

After  breakfast  they  went  out  for  their  usual 
promenade.  By  and  by  I  heard  'em  hailing  me 
from  the  back  of  the  house.  When  I  reached  'em 
they  was  standing  by  the  barn,  with  their  hands  in 
their  pockets,  and  looking  as  happy  and  proud  as 
if  they'd  discovered  America. 

"  Come  here,  skipper,"  says  Van.  "  Do  you 
see  this  ?  " 

He  was  pointing  at  a  kind  of  flat  place  in  the 
lee  of  the  pig  sties.  'Twas  a  sort  of  small  desert, 
as  you  might  say :  a  bunch  or  two  of  beachgrass  in 
the  middle  of  it  and  the  rest  poverty  grass  and 
sand. 

"  I  don't  see  much,"  says  I.  "  What  do  you 
mean?  " 


i26  MR.  PRATT 

"  I  mean  the  location,"  says  he.  "  Here's 
where  we'll  have  our  garden." 

I  looked  at  him  to  see  if  he  was  joking.  But 
it  appeared  he  wa'n't. 

"Garden?"  says  I. 

"  Sure,"  he  says.  "  It's  an  ideal  spot.  Sun  all 
day  long." 

"  You  could  make  a  garden  here,  couldn't  you, 
Sol?  "  asks  Hartley. 

"  Maybe  I  could,"  says  I,  "  if  I  dug  through  to 
Chiny  and  hit  loam  on  t'other  side.  Otherwise 
you  couldn't  raise  nothing  in  this  sand  but  blisters." 

"  Scudder  could  bring  us  loam,"  says  Van. 
u  We've  thought  of  that." 

"  Starting  a  garden  in  July!  "  says  I.  "  What 
do  you  cal'late  to  raise — Christmas  trees?  " 

"  Late  vegetables,  of  course,"  says  Van. 
"  Martin  and  I  intend  to  stay  all  through  Septem- 
ber. Think  of  it,  Martin;  green  corn  from  our 
own  plantation.  And  cucumbers  in  the  morning, 
with  the  dew  on  'em." 

"  And  tomatters  already  baked  in  the  sun,"  I 
says,  disgusted.  "  You  take  my  advice  and  buy 
your  green  stuff  off  Scudder." 

But  they  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  Called  me  a  Jer- 
emiah and  so  on. 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        127 

"  All  right,"  says  I,  finally.  "  Have  it  your 
own  way.  But  who's  going  to  work  this  cucum- 
bers and  dew  farm?  " 

"  Why,  we  are,  of  course,"  says  Van.  "  That's 
part  of  the  game,  isn't  it,  Martin?  Nothing  so 
healthful  as  outdoor  work  for  caged  birds  like  us. 
Maybe  we'll  have  two  gardens,  one  apiece.  Then 
we'll  see  who  raises  the  first  crop." 

I  could  see  'em  doing  it  1  But  there  was  no  use 
arguing  then.  I  put  my  trust  in  Scudder's  not 
being  able  to  fetch  the  loam. 

Pretty  soon  Nate  heaves  in  sight  in  the  dory 
with  a  cargo  of  skim  milk  and  store  eggs  and  but- 
ter. Van  Brunt  and  I  went  down  to  meet  him. 
Van  didn't  give  him  a  chance  to  talk;  just  as  soon 
as  the  stuff  was  put  on  shore  he  announces  that 
Scudder  must  go  right  back  and  drive  him  over 
to  Eastwich.  Nate  backed  and  filled,  as  usual, 
telling  how  busy  he  was,  and  how  he  hadn't  ought 
to  leave,  and  so  on.  But  Van  corks  him  right  up 
with  a  five-dollar  bill  and  off  they  went. 

I  lugged  the  milk  and  butter  and  the  rest  of  the 
truck  up  to  the  house  and  started  in  on  another 
stretch  of  work.  I'd  had  a  vacation  of  ten  min- 
utes or  so;  now  'twas  time  to  begin  again.  After 
I'd  cleared  up  round  the  kitchen  and  the  like  of 


128  MR.  PRATT 

that,  I  went  off  down  to  the  Dora  Bassett  and 
tackled  her.  Van  Brunt  had  cut  away  about 
everything  but  the  mast,  and  I  had  to  rig  new  hal- 
liards and  sheets  and  downhauls  and  land  knows 
what.  Drat  that  Heavenly!  'twas  a  two  days' 
job. 

While  I  was  making  a  start  on  it  Hartley  comes 
loafing  down  from  the  house. 

"  Skipper,"  he  says,  "  let's  have  another  one  of 
your  chowders  for  lunch,  will  you?  They're  the 
real  thing." 

"  Well,  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  I,  "  if 
We  have  chowder  I'd  ought  to  go  and  dig  the  clams 
right  now,  on  account  of  the  tide.  And,  honest, 
I  hate  to  leave  this  work  I'm  on.  Still,  of  course, 
if  you  say  so,  why " 

"What's  the  matter  with  my  digging  'em?" 
he  says. 

I  grinned.  "  Why,  nothing,"  I  says,  "  so  far 
as  I  know,  except  that  it's  something  of  a 
job." 

"Job!"  he  says.  "It'll  be  fun.  Tell  me 
where  to  go — and  what  to  dig  'em  with,  and — 
and  how  to  do  it." 

I  told  him  to  take  the  skiff  and  a  clam  hoe  and 
a  couple  of  buckets  and  row  across  to  the  main- 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        129 

land.  There  was  clams  all  alongshore  there,  I 
knew. 

"  You  go  along  till  you  see  a  lot  of  little  holes 
in  the  sand,"  I  Says,  "then  you  dig.  Want  to 
look  out  that  they  ain't  sand-worm  holes,  nor  razor 
fish.  And  when  you  begin  to  dig,"  I  says,  "  you 
want  to  lay  right  into  it,  'cause  the  clams  are  likely 
to  be  '  run-downs '  and  they  get  under  fast. 
So " 

11  Hold  on  a  minute,"  says  he.  "  How  am  I 
going  to  tell  a  worm-hole  from  a  clam-hole,  or  a 
clam-hole  from  a^ — what  was  it? — barber  fish 
hole?" 

"  Razor  fish,"  says  I.  "  Not  barber.  Well,. 
I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you,  exactly.  If  it's  a 
sand-worm  there's  likely  to  be  a  little  tiny  hole 
alongside  the  regular  one;  that  is,  there  is  some- 
times and  sometimes  there  ain't.  And  if  it's  razor 
fish — well,  /  can  tell  'em,  but  I  cal'late  you'll  have 
to  use  your  own  judgment." 

He  said  all  right,  he  guessed  he'd  get  along. 
So  off  he  went,  and  pretty  soon  him  and  Lord 
James  comes  down  and  gets  aboard  the  skiff.  His 
Lordship  was  loaded  with  no  less  than  four 
buckets,  besides  a  clam  hoe  and  the  garden  hoe 
and  the  stove  shovel.     'Twas  the  most  imposing; 


■30  MR.  PRATT 

clam  hunt  outfit  ever  I  see.  If  I'd  been  a  clam 
and  see  that  battery  coming  my  way  I'd  have  took 
to  tall  timber. 

"  Sure  you've  got  hoes  and  buckets  enough?  " 
I  asks,  sarcastic. 

"  I  guess  so,"  says  he,  looking  around  at  the 
weapons.  "  We  might  need  another  pail  perhaps, 
but  if  we  do  I'll  send  James  after  it." 

His  Lordship  started  rowing,  taking  strokes 
first  with  one  hand  and  then  with  the  other,  and 
the  fleet  got  under  way  and  waltzed,  as  you  might 
say,  zigzag  across  to  the  main.  'Twas  as  calm  as 
a  millpond  and  they  hit  land  up  towards  the  point 
by  the  Neck  Road.  Then  the  clam  slaughterers 
got  out  and  disappeared  round  behind  the  point. 
I  went  on  with  my  rigging. 

It  got  to  be  eleven  o'clock  and  no  signs  of  'em. 
Then  twelve;  lunch  time.  Tide  was  coming  in 
fast,  you  couldn't  have  got  a  clam  now  without  a 
diving  outfit.  But  still  all  quiet  on  the  Potomac. 
I  went  up  to  the  house  and  commenced  to  slice  ham 
and  fry  potatoes.  I  had  my  doubts  about  that 
chowder. 

Everything  was  ready  by  and  by  and  I  stepped 
to  the  door  to  take  an  observation.  And  then  I 
see  'em  coming,  rowing  more  crab  fashion  than 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        131 

ever.  I  walked  down  to  the  inlet  to  meet  'em., 
And  such  sights  as  they  was.  Blessed  if  they 
didn't  look  like  they'd  been  through  the  war — 
Lord  James  especial. 

"  Hi,  Sol!  "  sings  out  Hartley,  as  the  skiff  floats 
in,  broadside  on.  "  My !  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 
Give  James  a  lift  with  the  clams  and  things,  will 
you?     I'm  done  up." 

He  looked  it.  He  was  barefoot  and  bare- 
armed,  with  his  trousers  rolled  up  above  his  knees 
and  his  shirt  sleeves  above  his  elbows.  And  the 
valet  was  the  same,  and  both  of  'em  soaking  wet 
and  just  plastered  with  wet  sand  and  clay. 

I  give  one  glance  at  them  bare  legs  and  arms. 

"  For  the  land  sakes !  "  I  sings  out.  "  Pull 
down  your  pants  and  your  sleeves.  You're  burned 
to  a  blister  already." 

And  so  they  was.  Tender  white  skins  like 
theirs,  wet  with  salt  water  and  out  in  that  sun ! 

They  pulled  'em  down  looking  like  they  didn't 
know  what  for,  and  come  hopping  and  groaning 
ashore.  His  Lordship's  back  was  so  lame  from 
bending  over  that  he  couldn't  hardly  straighten  up 
without  howling. 

"  Did  you  need  the  extra  bucket?  "  I  asks. 

"  Why  no,  I  believe  not,"  says  Hartley.    "  You 


,32  MR.  PRATT 

see  I  dug  for  a  while  and  then  I  went  to  look  for 
better  places,  and  James  did  the  digging.  We 
found  holes  enough,  but  they  didn't  seem  to  be 
the  right  kind.  Worms,  did  you  call  those  things  ? 
Sea  serpents,  you  meant,  I  guess.  I  never  saw 
such  creatures.  And  there  was  one  place  where 
there  were  millions  of  holes,  but  chockful  of 
crabs." 

"  Um-hum,"  says  I.  "  Fiddlers,  You  must 
have  gone  plumb  up  into  the  march  bank  to  run 
into  them." 

"  They  was  'orrid  things,"  says  Lord  James, 
rolling  his  eyes.  "  And  they  'ad  claws  and 
swarmed  over  my  feet.  I  give  you  me  word  I 
was  that " 

"  That'll  do,  James,"  says  Hartley.  "  Well,  I 
was  successful  at  last,  skipper.  Struck  a  place 
where  clams  were  actually  in  layers  just  under  the 
sand.  We  turned  'em  over  with  the  hoes  like 
winking.  I  pointed  'em  out  and  James  picked  'em 
up.     Just  look  at  those  buckets,  will  you?" 

I  looked  at  'em.  There  was  three  buckets 
chock,  brimming  full. 

"  Good  land  of  love !  "  says  I.  "  Them  ain't 
clams — they're  quahaugs." 

"  They're  clams  in  New  York,"  he  says.. 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        133 

11  Maybe  so,"  says  I.  "  We  call  'em  quahaugs 
here.  And  there's  no  quahaugs  in  this  part  of 
the  bay  unless  they've  been  bedded.  Was  there 
any  marks  around  'em?  " 

"  There  was  a  lot  of  sticks  stuck  up  around," 
he  says,  "  but  we  knocked  those  out  of  the  way." 

11  You  did?  "  says  I.  "  Did  you  leave  any  of 
the — what  you  call  clams?  " 

"  You  bet  we  didn't,  says  he.  "  We  took  the 
last  one.  Had  too  much  trouble  finding  'em  to 
leave  any." 

11  Humph !  "  says  I.  "  That's  nice.  You've 
cleaned  out  somebody's  private  quahaug  bed. 
Them  quahaugs  was  all  brought  over  by  somebody 
and  planted  where  you  found  'em.  The  sticks  was 
to  mark  the  place." 

"  You  don't  mean  it?  "  he  says. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  says  I.  "  I  cal'late  we'll  hear 
from  them  quahaugs  afore  long." 

And  sure  enough  we  did,  but  that  comes  later. 

On  the  way  up  to  the  house  I  turns  to  his  Lord- 
ship, who  was  limping  barefoot  over  the  beach- 
grass  stubbles,  and  says  I : 

"Ain't  clamming  fun?"  I  says. 

"  My  word!  "  says  he,  but  it  expressed  his  feel- 
ings all  right. 


i34  MR.  PRATT. 

All  the  afternoon  the  clam  hunters  kept  getting 
lamer  and  lamer  and  sorer  and  sorer.  Their  sun- 
burnt legs  and  arms  was  hurting  'em  scandalous. 
Hartley  flopped  into  a  piazza  chair  and  stayed 
there,  and  Lord  James  crept  around  with  his  limbs 
spread  out  like  windmill  sails.  And  every  time 
he'd  bump  into  a  chair  or  anything  you  could  hear 
him  whoop  to  glory. 

Van  Brunt  got  home  about  supper  time.  Scud- 
der  rowed  him  over.  I  had  the  quahaug  chowder 
made  and  he  ate  enough  for  all  hands.  Hartley 
was  feeling  too  used  up  to  relish  it  much,  and  his 
Lordship  didn't  eat  nothing.  I  let  him  off  on  the 
dish  washing  and  he  went  off  to  the  tail  end  of  the 
veranda  and  went  to  sleep  in  a  chair. 

After  supper  Van  told  about  his  trip  to  East- 
wich.  Agnes  and  the  Talford  girl  was  well,  he 
said,  and  they  and  their  Fresh  Air  tribe  was  com- 
ing to  the  Island  next  day  for  a  picnic. 

"By  the  way,  skipper,"  says  Van;  "  Scudder 
says  he  brought  some  presents  for  us  last  night 
after  we  went  to  bed.     Where  are  they?  " 

Thunderation  1  I'd  forgot  all  about  them 
"  presents."  I'd  felt  like  an  undertaker  when  I 
laid  'em  away  in  that  drawer,  and  now  I  felt  like 
a  grave  robber  as  I  dug  'em  up  again.     I  spread 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        i35 

'em  out  on  the  table,  coffin  plates  in  the  middle 
and  wreath  on  one  end  and  "  What  is  Home  With- 
out a  Mother  "  on  t'other. 

You'd  ought  to  have  heard  them  Heavenlies 
laugh !  Nate's  presents  certainly  made  a  hit. 
Van  he  just  laid  back  and  roared. 

"Oh,  by  Jovel"  he  says,  panting.  "This  is 
too  good!  This  is  lovely.  Shades  of  Hannah 
Jane  Purvis !  Martin,  how  the  widow  of  the  man 
that  didn't  feel  like  beans  would  have  appreciated 
these,  hey  ?  This — this  would  have  been  her  idea 
of  an  art  gallery." 

"  Pack  'em  away  again,  Sol,"  says  Hartley. 
"Now  that  the  relatives  have  had  an  opportunity 
to  view  the  remains,  the  funeral  may  go  on.  Bury 
'em  quick." 

"  Bury  'em  ?  "  says  Van.  "  Not  much.  They're 
too  dreamily  beautiful.  Martin,  I'm  surprised  at 
you.  What  is  home  without  a  family  vault,  any- 
way? And  yet —  Hold  on!  "  he  says,  holding 
up  his  hand.  "  I  have  an  idea.  We'll  give  them 
to  James." 

"To  James?"  says  me  and  Martin  together. 

"Of  course,  to  James.  James  is  funereal  and 
solemn  and  dignified.  They  ought  to  appeal  to  his 
taste.     They're  right  in  his  line.     We  will  dec- 


i36  MR.  PRATT 

orate"  James*  room  with  'em.  What  is  it  they  were 
warranted  to  do,  skipper,  when  'strung  up  around?' 
Oh  yes!  to  be  sure.  'Take  away  the  bare  look.' 
James'  room  is  bare,  now  that  I  think  of  it.  Come 
and  join  the  Memorial  Day  parade,  Martin." 

He  was  out  in  the  kitchen,  getting  the  hammer 
and  nails  and  string.  Going  to  decorate  the 
valet's  bedroom  right  off.  Hartley  laughed  and 
said,  "  Oh,  let  the  poor  devil  alone,  Van.  He's 
had  troubles  enough  for  one  day."  But  you 
couldn't  stop  that  Van  Brunt  critter  when  he  got 
started. 

He  makes  me  load  the  presents  in  my  arms  and 
takes  the  lamp  and  leads  the  way  upstairs.  And 
then  he  sets  to  work  and  hangs  them  presents 
round  Lord  James'  room.  He  put  the  coffin  plates 
over  the  washstand  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  the 
wreath  over  the  head,  and  hung  the  picture  of 
Marcellus  over  the  looking-glass  and  the  shell 
work  by  the  closet  door. 

11  Now,"  says  he,  "  for  the  motto — the  crown- 
ing touch.     Where?     Where?" 

Finally  he  hung  it  on  top  of  the  bureau. 

"  Perhaps,"  says  he,  "  its  influence  may  make 
James  more  motherly;  who  knows?  " 

Then  we  went  down  stairs  and  he  made  me 


MR.  SCUDDER'S  PRESENTS        137 

promise  to  say  nothing.  Then  he  was  for  waking 
his  Lordship  up  and  ordering  him  to  bed  right 
then,  but  his  chum  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  Martin 
said  let  the  poor  fellow  have  his  nap  out.  He 
knew  how  he  felt.     So  Van  give  in  after  awhile. 

Pretty  soon  Hartley  got  tired  of  waiting  and 
said  he  was  going  to  turn  in;  he  was  played  out, 
he  said.  Van  wanted  to  wait  longer,  but  he  didn't. 
He  went  to  bed  too.  At  half-past  ten  or  so  my 
round  of  chores  was  done  and  I  sung  out  to  Lord 
James  to  wake  up  and  come  in  because  I  wanted 
to  lock  up.     But  he  wouldn't. 

"  Let  me  alone,"  he  says,  pleading.  "  I'm 
'appy  for  the  first  time  in  'ours.  I'll  lock  up,  my- 
self, by  and  by,"  he  says.  So  I  left  him  out  on 
the  piazza  and  went  aloft  and  turned  in.  And  it 
didn't  take  me  long  to  get  to  sleep,  I  tell  you. 

What  woke  me  up  was  a  howl  like  an  engyne 
tooting.  I  bounced  out  of  bed  like  I  had  springs 
under  me,  instead  of  corncobs  and  ropes. 

Then  comes  another  screech.  Then  a  smashity 
— bang — Smash  !  Then  more  yells,  and  feet 
going  down  the  hall  and  falling  down  stairs.  Then 
a  door  banging  and  sounds  like  all  the  furniture 
on  the  island  was  being  upset. 

I  lit  a  lamp  and  got  out  into  the  hall.     There  I 


i38  MR.  PRATT. 

met  the  Heavenly  Twins  just  coming  from  their 
room.  They  was  dressed  light  and  gauzy,  same 
as  me,  but  Van  had  a  revolver  in  his  hand  and 
Hartley  was  swinging  a  chair  by  the  back. 

"  What  on  earth?  "  says  Van. 

"  It's  in  the  dining  rcom,  whatever  it  is,"  says  I. 

I  grabbed  up  something  to  use  for  a  club — it 
turned  out  later  to  be  the  littlest  joint  of  Hartley's 
fish  pole — and  we  tip-toed  down  stairs  to  the  din- 
ing room  door.     And  that  door  was  locked  fast. 


CHAPTER    IX 
THE  "FRESH-AIRERS" 

FIRST  I  tried  that  door,  then  Hartley  tried 
it,  and  then  Van ;  each  of  us  just  as  soft  and 
quiet  as  possible.  Then  we  listened.  Not 
a  sound. 

Then  Van  catches  me  by  the  arm  and  begins  to 
pull  me  and  Martin  back  along  the  hall.  When 
we  got  to  the  end,  by  the  parlor  door,  he  whispers, 
low  and  cautious: 

"We  must  break  the  door  down.  It's  locked  on 
the  inside.  Sol,  you  put  that  lamp  on  the  stairs. 
Better  turn  it  down,  too.  A  light  gives  the  other 
man  all  the  advantage  if  it  comes  to  shooting. 
Now  ready,  when  I  say  the  word.  All  rush  to- 
gether.    One — two " 

11  Wait  a  minute,"  whispers  Hartley — he  was 
always  cool-headed.     "Where's  James?" 

"James?"  repeats  Van.     "What?     James?" 

"  James?  "  says  I.  And  then  I  begun  to  get  my 
senses  back.     Wake  a  feller  up  out  of  a  sound 

139 


i4o  MR.  PRATT 

sleep  the  way  we  was  and  it  takes  a  few  minutes 
for  him  to  get  on  earth  again. 

"  James !  "  says  I.     "Ill  bet " 

"  Idiot !  "  says  Van,  speaking  about  himself  I 
judge.  Then  he  walks  down  the  hall  and  gives 
that  door  a  kick. 

"  James,"  he  sings  out.  "  Is  that  you?  Open 
this  door." 

For  a  second  or  two  there  wa'n't  a  sound.  Then 
a  voice  says,  weak  and  chattery,  "  O-o-h,  my 
soul!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  says  Van. 
"  Is  he  hurt?  Where's  the  key,  skipper?  Inside, 
of  course.     But — but  where's  the  key-hole?  " 

Then  I  remembered.  "  There  ain't  any  key- 
hole," I  says.     "  There's  no  lock  on  the  door." 

"  Then  what — ?     Come  on,  Martin." 

He  set  his  shoulder  to  the  door  and  commenced 
to  shove.  Me  and  Hartley  helped,  and  the  door 
begun  to  open.  It  opened  slow,  because  the  din- 
ing table  and  two  or  three  chairs  and  the  chest 
of  drawers  was  braced  against  it.  We  got  in 
finally. 

"  Bring  the  lamp,"  says  Hartley.  I  done  it. 
The  room  was  empty. 

"  James !  "  hollers  Van.     "  James !  " 


THE  "FRESH-JIRERS"  i4r 

The  closet  door  opens  just  a  crack.  Then 
it  swung  wide  and  his  Lordship,  half  dressed 
and  white  as  an  old  clamshell,  staggers  into  the 
room. 

"  Oh !  "  says  he.     "  Oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  sir  I  " 

He  was  shaking  like  a  palsy. 

"  What  ails  you,  man?  "  says  Hartley.  "  Speak 
up." 

The  valet  rolls  his  eyes  around  to  me. 

"  I  seen  it,"  he  says.  "  I  seen  it  plain.  It's 
'im!" 

"Him?     Who?  "says  I. 

"  The  ghost.  The  old  cove  as  owned  this 
'ouse.  'E  was  up  in  my  room  a-waiting  for 
me." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  asks  Van,  im- 
patient. I  begun  to  see  light,  but  the  Heavenlies 
didn't — not  yet. 

"  'E  was  up  in  my  room,  sir,"  said  Lord  James, 
wild-like.  "  I  'ad  me  coat  and  waistcoat  off,  sir, 
and  then  I  goes  over  to  the  mirror  intending  to  see 
if  me  face  looked  as  'ot  as  it  felt.  And  I  lights 
my  lamp  and  there  'e  was  a-glaring  at  me.  'E 
'ad  'is  'ead  through  the  mirror,  sir.  And  there 
was  coffins  around,  and  wreaths.  It's  a  warning 
to  me,  sir.     I'm  a  dead  man." 


142  MR.  PRATT 

And  then  we  began  to  laugh. 

"The  presents!"  says  Van,  between  roars. 
"  Scudder's  heirlooms.     Ho!  ho!  " 

His  Lordship  stared  at  us  like  he  thought  we 
was  crazy.  I  more  than  half  pitied  him.  Martin 
did  too,  I  guess,  for  he  says: 

"  It's  all  right,  James.  Just  one  of  Mr.  Van 
Brunt's  jokes.     You  see " 

"  But  I  saw  'im,  sir.  'E  was  there,  and  there 
was  wreaths  and  coffins  'ung  about,  and " 

"It's  all  right,"  says  I.  "Here !  come  along  and 
I'll  show  you." 

But  not  one  step  would  he  stir.  A  derrick 
wouldn't  have  lifted  him  up  them  stairs.  So  I 
quit  trying  and  went  aloft  and  fetched  down  the 
crayon  enlargement  and  the  wreath.  Then  I  set 
out  to  explain. 

"  Why,  you  imbecile !  "  says  Van.  "  Where's 
your  taste  for  art?  We  were  beautifying  your 
room.     Taking  off  the  bare  look,  as  per  Scudder." 

James'  color  begun  to  come  back.  And  when 
it  come  it  come  thick.  He  reddened  up  so  you 
could  see  it  even  through  the  sun-burn. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  he  says,  getting  madder 
every  minute,  "I  give  you  notice.  I  leave  to- 
morrow morning." 


THE  "FRESH-AIRERS"  143 

11  Don't  be  an  idiot — "  begins  Van,  but  his 
Lordship  cut  him  short. 

"  I  leave  to-morrow  morning,"  he  shouts. 
"  Ain't  it  enough  to  bring  me  to  this  Gawd-for- 
saken 'ole  and  work  me  'alf  to  death  and  blister 
me  from  'ead  to  foot,  without  this?  I  give  you 
warning  now.  I'm  going  'ome.  And  you  be 
glad  I  ain't  'aving  the  law  on  you  for  this  out- 
rage.    Us  poor  servants  'as  rights,  and " 

There  was  more,  plenty  more.  We  couldn't 
shut  him  up.  And  the  Heavenlies'  explanations 
didn't  count  either.  He  was  dead  set  on  leaving 
in  the  morning. 

Finally,  we  give  it  up  and  went  back  to  bed. 
Lord  James  said  he  was  going  to  stay  in  the 
kitchen  all  night.  Nothing  would  hire  him  to 
sleep  in  Marcellus'  receiving  tomb  again. 

"Humph!  "  says  Hartley,  as  the  Twins  went 
upstairs,  "  it  looks  to  me  as  if  your  joke  had  lost 
us  the  best  valet  you  ever  had,  Van." 

Van  cussed  under  his  breath.  "He  shan't 
leave,"  he  said.  "  I  must  keep  him  somehow. 
He's  invaluable  in  the  city,  and  we  may  go  back 
there  some  time.  Not  for  months,  though,  of 
course,"  he  adds. 

But  in  the  morning  James  was  worse  set  than 


144  MR.  PRATT 

ever.  He  wouldn't  help  with  breakfast  nor  noth- 
ing; went  aloft  at  daylight  and  begun  to  pack  his 
trunk.  He  was  going  to  leave,  that's  all  there 
was  about  it. 

The  Twins  was  pretty  blue  during  breakfast, 
Van  about  losing  his  Lordship,  and  Hartley  on 
account  of  sun-burn,  I  cal'late.  'Twas  another 
elegant  day  and  there  was  wind  enough  to  keep 
the  flies  and  mosquitoes  away  from  the  house.  If 
you  got  in  the  lee  anywheres,  though,  they  was 
laying  for  you  in  droves.  They  didn't  bother  me 
much,  'count  of  my  hide  being  tough  and  leathery 
and  my  flavor  too  salt  maybe ;  but  they  was  fatten- 
ing up  fast  on  the  Heavenlies  and  James. 

About  ten  o'clock  Scudder  shows  up  with 
the  first  dory-load  of  Fresh  Airers  from  the  East- 
wich  place.  Miss  Agnes  come  along  with  'em. 
Then  the  second  load  come,  cap'ned  by  the  Tal- 
ford  girl.     And  then  there  was  doings. 

Them  Fresh  Air  young  ones  wa'n't  all  of  a  piece 
with  Redny,  which  was  a  mercy.  He  was  a  hand- 
ful in  himself,  that  little  sorrel-top  was — but  there 
was  enough  like  him  to  keep  things  stirred  up. 
Marcellus'  old  shingled  prison  had  to  take  it  that 
day.  There  must  have  been  some  stewing  in 
Heaven  if  old  Lady  Berry  could  look  down  and  see 


THE  "FRESH-AIRERS"  ,45, 

them  youngsters  whooping  and  carrying-on  in  the 
front  parlor.  In  Mrs.  B's  day  that  parlor  was  a 
kind  of  saint's  rest,  as  you  might  say,  and  the  only 
time  anybody  opened  its  door  was  when  she  sailed 
in  with  the  broom  and  feather  duster.  And  then 
she  must  have  had  to  navigate  by  compass,  because 
the  blinds  was  always  shut  tight  and  the  curtains 
drawn  and  'twas  too  dark  to  see  anything. 

Hartley  looked  out  for  the  children  and  Van 
Brunt  piloted  the  two  girls  over  the  place,  point- 
ing out  where  the  garden  was  going  to  be  some 
day,  and  where  the  hens  was  likely  to  roost  and 
the  pig  to  board.  They  seemed  to  be  as  pleased 
and  tickled  as  he  was  and  thought  everything  was 
"  lovely "  and  "  just  too  quaint  and  dear."  I 
was  busy  cooking  and  Lord  James  sulked  out  in 
the  barn.  He  couldn't  get  away  until  late  after- 
noon on  account  of  the  train. 

Redny  stuck  to  Hartley  like  a  mud-turtle  to  a 
big  toe.  He  was  right  at  his  heels  all  the  time. 
By  and  by  the  pair  of  'em  come  out  in  the  kitchen 
to  see  me. 

"  Hello,  Andrew  Jackson,"  says  I  to  the  boy. 
"  How  do  you  like  this  part  of  the  country?  " 

"  Great !  "  says  he,  his  eyes  snapping.  "  Gee, 
ain't  we  having  the  peach  of  a  time !  " 


i46  MR.  PRATT 

"  Must  feed  you  well  over  there,"  I  says. 
"  Seems  to  me  you're  getting  fat  already.  Board's 
up  to  the  mark  of  the  Newsboys'  Home,  ain't  it?  " 

"  Bet  you !  "  says  he.  "  Chicken,  and  pie,  and 
all  the  milk  you  want.  And  cream — aw  say  I  " 
and  he  smacked  his  lips. 

11  How'd  you  like  to  live  here  all  the  time  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Naw,"  he  says.  "  Too 
still.  Sometimes  I  can't  sleep  good  'cause  it's  so 
still.  No  El,  nor  whistles  nor  fights  nor  nothing. 
And  no  Chinks  to  chuck  rocks  at.  Miss  Agony 
won't  let  you  chuck  rocks  at  folks  anyhow." 

"  Don't  you  wish  you  was  back  to  New  York 
with  your  dad?  "  I  says. 

"  Not  much,"  he  says.  "  The  old  man  used  to 
*lub  me  too  good.  When  he  was  full  I'd  get  a 
belting  most  every  day." 

I  looked  at  Hartley  and  he  at  me.  Poor  little 
shaver!  It's  when  I  see  how  some  folks  treat 
children  that  I  get  to  thinking  I  could  make  a  bet- 
ter world  than  this  is. 

"Going  to  run  away  again?"  I  asks,  after  a 
minute. 

"  Naw,"  says  Redny.  "  Not  while  I'm  down 
here.  Miss  Agony  cries  over  me  and  I'd  rather 
be  licked  any  time  than  that." 


THE  "FRESH-AIRERS"  i47 

Hartley  rumpled  the  youngster's  hair  with  his 
fingers. 

"  Sol,"  he  says,  "  there's  good  here  if  you  can 
get  at  it.  Too  much  good  to  be  running  to  waste. 
Ah  hum!  Must  be  rather  pleasant  to  have  one 
or  two  of  your  own;  must  make  life  almost 
worth  living.  That's  where  you  and  I  have 
missed  it." 

11  You've  got  plenty  of  time  yet,"  says  I. 
"  Maybe  you'll  be  down  in  these  diggings  nine  or 
ten  year  from  now  with  a  family  of  your  own." 

He  smiled,  kind  of  sad  and  one-sided.  Then  he 
got  up  and  walked  out  to  the  piazza.  Redny 
hung  around  a  spell,  long  enough  to  ask  a  couple 
million  questions.  Then  he  went  into  the  parlor 
with  the  rest  of  the  young  Injuns. 

Pretty  soon  I  heard  some  one  speak.  I  looked 
through  the  door  way  and  see  the  Page  girl  com- 
ing up  the  porch  steps  alone.  Hartley  stood  up 
and  lifted  his  cap. 

"Where's  Van?"  he  asked. 

"  He's  down  on  the  beach  with  Margaret.  I 
came  back  to  look  after  the  children." 

"  They're  all  right,"  says  Martin.  "  Playing 
games  in  the  front  room." 

Agnes  stopped  for  a  second  in  the  doorway. 


148  MR.  PRATT 

"  I  don't  just  understand,"  she  said,  hesitating, 
"  why  you  are  here.  Is  it  true  that  your  health 
is  bad?  " 

"'  No,"  he  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  "  I  did  feel 
rath*r  gone  to  seed  before  I  left  town,  but  now  I'm 
having  the  time  of  my  life." 

"Indeed?"  says  she.  "So  far  from  Wall 
Street?     I'm  surprised." 

He  didn't  seem  to  answer — leastways  I  didn't 
hear  him.  Next  thing  I  knew  he  was  standing  on 
the  top  step. 

"  Please  excuse  me,"  he  says,  pretty  frosty.  "  I 
fnust  speak  to  James." 

He  went  off  down  the  steps  and  out  of  sight. 
She  stood  and  watched  him  a  minute,  and  I 
thought  she  looked  puzzled — and  solemn.  Then 
ihe  went  into  the  parlor. 

We  had  dinner  out  doors  on  the  piazza.  While 
it  was  going  on  the  grown-ups  didn't  do  much  talk- 
ing. It's  precious  little  fun  trying  to  talk  against 
a  typhoon  and  an  earthquake  mixed,  and  that's 
what  them  Fresh  Air  young  ones  turned  that 
meal  into.  'Twas  "  Hurrah  boys !  Stand  from 
under!  "  from  the  beginning.  When  I  wa'n't  fill- 
ing up  fish  plates  I  was  dodging  potato  skins  and 
similar  bouquets.     They  didn't  fire  'em  at  me,  you 


THE  "FRESH-AIRERS"  i49 

understand,  but  it's  always  the  feller  that's  looking 
on  at  the  row  who  gets  hit.  Redny  was  cap'n  of 
the  gun  crew.  He  could  chuck  a  potato  skin  with 
his  left  hand  and  eat  with  his  right  and  look  pious 
and  shocked,  all  at  the  same  time. 

When  the  Juniors  was  filled  up — and  it  wa'n't 
no  slouch  of  a  job  to  get  'em  filled — they  went  off 
to  start  a  riot  somewheres  else,  and  the  Twins  and 
the  girls  had  a  chance.  Van  got  to  telling  about 
Scudder's  presents,  and  he  was  funny  as  usual. 
That  Margaret  Talford  would  laugh  until  I  had 
to  join  in  just  out  of  sympathy,  even  though  I  was 
up  to  my  eyes  in  soapsuds  and  dishwashing.  She 
was  a  jolly  girl,  that  one;  pretty  and  full  of  snap 
and  go. 

Nothing  would  do  but  them  "  presents  "  must 
go  on  exhibition.  So  Van  lugged  'em  down  from 
James'  room  and  lined  'em  up  on  the  piazza  for 
inspection.  He  took  a  stick  for  a  pointer  and  give 
a  lecture  about  'em,  same  as  if  they  was  a  pano- 
rama, pointing  out  what  he  called  the  "  feeling  " 
and  "  atmosphere  "  of  the  shell  basket  and  the 
"  perspective  "  of  Marcellus  in  the  crayon  enlarge- 
ment. He  had  a  good  time  and  so  did  everybody 
else,  especially  Miss  Talford. 

By  and  by  she  clapped  her  hands.     "  Oh !  "  says 


i5o  MR.  PRATT 

she,  "  I've  got  an  idea.  Did  you  say  your  man 
was  going  to  leave  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt?  " 

Van  heaved  a  sigh.  "  Yes,"  he  says.  "  I  be- 
lieve he  is.  I  fear  that  James  hasn't  the  artistic 
temperament.  I  confess  I'm  disappointed.  He 
certainly  looked  as  if  he  had  it;  he  was  sad  and 
soulful  and — and — dyspeptic.  But  no;  even  the 
1  Motherless  Home '  didn't  appeal  to  him.  He 
says  he's  going  to-night." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  would  come  over  to  the 
school?  "  says  she.  "  We  need  a  man  there,' don't 
we,  Agnes  ?  To  help  about  the  place,  and  look  out 
for  the  boys,  and  to — well,  to  protect  us." 

"  Lucky  James !  "  says  Van.  "  But  why  James  ? 
Won't  Martin  here  do — or — excuse  my  blushes — 
myself?" 

But  the  Talford  girl  laughed  and  said  he 
wouldn't  do  at  all.  He  lacked  dignity,  she  said, 
and  didn't  look  the  part.  She  asked  Miss  Page 
if  she  really  didn't  think  that  James  would  be  just 
the  man  for  them.  Agnes  said  perhaps  he  would. 
So  the  four  of  'em  went  away  for  a  walk  on  the 
beach  and  to  talk  it  over. 

I'll  bet  I  called  that  valet  anything  but  a  church 
member  and  a  good  feller  a  dozen  times  over  while 
I  was  diving  into  them  dishes.     I  washed  and 


THE  "FRESH-4IRERS"  151 

washed  till,  seemed  to  me,  I  was  soaked  out  fresh 
enough  to  bile,  like  a  pickled  codfish.  And  when 
the  washing  was  done  there  was  the  wiping.  I 
laid  out  a  bale  or  so  of  dish  towels  and  pitched  in. 

Pretty  soon  somebody  says,  "  Mayn't  I  help  ?  " 

I  swung  around  and  there  was  Agnes  Page. 
Nice  to  look  at,  she  was,  too. 

"  Can't  I  help  you,  please?  "  says  she,  picking 
up  a  towel. 

"Land  sakes,  no!"  says  I.  "You'll  sp^i 
your  fine  clothes.  Besides  I've  got  sort  of  used 
to  it  by  this  time;  my  arm  goes  round  of  itself, 
like  a  paddle  wheel." 

She  laughed  and  grabbed  a  chowder  plate  and 
commenced  to  wipe.  She  done  fairly  well  for 
anybody  who  hadn't  practiced  much,  but  she  never 
would  have  won  the  cup  for  speed.  One  disli 
every  five  minutes  is  all  right,  maybe,  if  you're 
getting  paid  by  the  year,  but —  However,  I 
judged  her  ma  kept  hired  help  to  home.  I  won- 
dered what  she'd  done  with  Hartley. 

By  and  by  she  says,  "  Mr.  Pratt,  how  long  da 
you  expect  to  stay  here?  " 

"  Here?  "  says  I.  "  On  Horsefoot — on  Ozono 
Island?  Land  knows.  Long's  the  Heavenlies — • 
that  is,  long's  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  Mr.  Hartley 


i52  MR.  PRATT 

stay  here,  I  guess.  It's  a  restful  place,  ain't  it?  " 
says  I,  reaching  for  the  next  stack  of  dishes. 

She  smiled.  "  No  doubt  they  find  it  so,"  she 
says.     "  How  do  you  like  the  Natural  Life?  " 

"  Who — me?  Oh,  I  cal'late  I  shall  like  it  tip- 
top when  I  get  a  little  more  used  to  it — that  is,  if 
I  last.  I  was  oldest  boy  in  a  family  of  nine, 
and  dad  died  young,  so  I  was  brought  up  Natural, 
as  you  might  say.  It's  been  some  time,  though, 
since  I  had  so  many  hours  of  straight-along,  pitch- 
in-and-hustle  Naturalness  in  the  day's  run;  been 
getting  artificial  and  lazy  of  late  years,  I  guess. 
But  I'm  tough,  and  I'll  be  all  right  and  used 
to  it  pretty  soon — getting  lots  of  practice.  By 
the  way,"  I  says,  "  who  was  it  that  sent  'em 
here?" 

"  Who?  "  says  she,  looking  surprised.  "  Sent? 
I  don't  understand." 

"  Was  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  his  chum  sent  here 
by  the  doctor,  or  who?  " 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  they  were  sent  at  all.  I 
think  they  came  here  of  their  own  accord." 

"Humph!"  says  I,  considering.  "Was  any 
of  their  folks  ever  took  this  way?  Does  it  run 
m  the  families?  " 

That  seemed  to  tickle  her  and  I  guess  she  under- 


THE  "FRESH-AIRERS"  153 

stood  what  I  meant.  But  she  didn't  answer  the 
question;  went  on  dry-polishing  the  pickle  dish. 
Then  says  she,  kind  of  accidental  on  purpose : 

"  Is  Mr.  Hartley's  health  improving?  " 

M  Oh  yes !  "  says  I.  "  He's  picking  up  some, 
'specially  in  his  appetite.  He  ain't  up  to  Van 
Brunt  in  that  line  yet,  though.  Van  eats  for 
three ;  Hartley's  only  up  to  the  one-man-and-a-boy 
mark  so  far.  He'd  do  better  if  he  didn't  have 
them  blue  streaks  of  his.  Seems  to  have  some- 
thing on  his  mind.'* 

11  Perhaps  he's  troubled  about  leaving  his  busi- 
ness," she  suggests,  looking  sideways  at  the  pickle 
dish. 

"  Guess  not,"  says  I,  looking  sideways  at  her. 
11  I  don't  think  I've  heard  him  mention  business 
since  he's  been  down.  No,  'tain't  that,  according 
to  my  notion.     He  ain't  in  love,  is  he?  " 

She  looked  at  me  then  pretty  hard;  but  I  was 
as  wooden-faced  as  a  cigar  sign. 

11  Dear  me,  no,"  she  laughs,  brisk.  "  I  guess 
not.     What  made  you  think  that?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  says  I.  "  I  ain't  ever  been 
took  that  way  myself,  but  it  seemed  to  me  he  had 
all  the  symptoms.  Didn't  know  but  he  was  fret- 
ting about  some  young  woman.     He's  a  fine  chap, 


i54  MR.  PRATT 

that  young  Hartley.  It  '11  be  a  lucky  girl  that  gets 
him." 

She  didn't  say  much  more,  but  she  looked  at 
me  every  once  in  a  while  as  if  she  was  wondering. 
I  never  let  on.  I  was  as  innocent  and  easy  as  the 
cat  with  the  cream  on  its  whiskers.  I  had  a  sneak- 
ing hope  that  I  might  have  boosted  Hartley  a  little 
mite,  and  I  felt  good  down  one  side.  Then  I 
thought  of  Van,  and  I  felt  mean  all  up  the  other. 

After  a  spell  the  Twins  and  Miss  Talford  hap- 
pened along,  and  what  a  time  Van  Brunt  made 
when  he  see  his  girl  helping  me  wipe  dishes. 

"  Well,  well !  "  he  says.  "  Is  this  the  way  you 
hurry  back  to  '  see  what  the  dear  children  are 
doing?  '  Sol,  you  old  fascinator,  how  do  you  do 
it?  Martin  and  I  fell  in  love  with  him  at  first 
sight,  Miss  Talford;  and  now  look  at  Agnes." 

"  Hold  on  there,"  says  I.  "  Don't  spread  it 
to  thick.  I  ain't  got  but  one  hat  that  '11  do  for 
Sunday,  and  I  want  that  to  fit  me.  I  was  giving 
Miss  Page  a  few  lessons  in  housekeeping,  and 
you'd  ought  to  thank  me  for  that,  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

It  seems  the  Talford  girl  had  seen  James  and  he 
had  agreed  to  go  to  Eastwich  with  'em.  'Twas  a 
good  chance  for  him,  a  soft  job  and  all  that. 
Truth  to  tell,  I  guess  he  was  kind  of  sorry  about 


THE  "FRESH-JIRERS"  i55 

parting  from  Van  altogether,  the  gleaning  might 
not  be  so  good  in  his  next  boss's  berry  pas- 
ture. 

So  about  six  o'clock  Scudder  come  with  his  dory 
and  the  picnic  broke  up.  The  Fresh-Airers  were 
pretty  nigh  played  out  by  this  time.  The  smaller 
children  was  nodding  with  their  heads  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  bigger  ones,  and  I  even  had  to 
tote  two  of  the  littlest  in  my  arms  down  to  the 
beach.  But  they  was  all  full  fed  and  sun-burned 
and  dirty  and  happy,  and  they'd  had  the  bulliest 
time  in  their  poor,  pinched-up  little  lives. 

"  Well,  good-by,  Andrew  Jackson,"  says  I  to 
Redny.  "  Had  good  time  enough  to  want  to 
come  again,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Sure  thing,"  says  he. 

41  Like  it  as  well  here  as  you  do  over  at  the 
school?" 

"  Yup,"  he  says.  "  Ain't  nobody  to  plug 
potato  skins  at  over  there." 

He  was  a  smart  little  coot.  Had  the  makings 
of  a  man  in  him  if  you  dug  down  far  enough  to 
get  at  it. 

Lord  James  comes  down  to  the  shore  tugging 
his  trunk  behind  him. 

"  So  long,   Hopper,"   says  I.     V  Shall  I  give 


i56  MR.  PRATT 

your  love  to  Marcellus'  spook  if  it  comes  gliding 
again?  " 

He  looked  at  me  very  solemn.  "  You'd  better 
come  too,"  he  says.  "  You  take  my  advice  and 
leave  this  blooming  island  now  w'ile  you  'ave  the 
chance.  There'll  come  a  time,"  says  he,  "  when 
you  won't  'ave  it." 

He  climbed  into  the  dory  and  set  down  all 
huddled  up  in  the  stern  with  his  trunk  between  his 
knees.  Scudder  begins  rowing  and  they  moved 
off. 

"  There,"  says  Van,  referring  to  his  Lordship, 
11  goes  the  final  tie  that  binds  us  to  a  sordid  past. 
Shall  we  sing  '  The  Last  Link  is  Broken,'  Martin? 
Or  have  you  something  more  appropriate  to  sug- 
gest, skipper?  " 

"  I  have  for  myself,"  says  I.  "  It's  ■  Work 
for  the  Night  is  Coming.'  " 

And  I  hurried  up  to  the  house  to  get  supper. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK 

THE  Heavenlies  was  late  down  to  breakfast 
next  morning,  owing,  I  cal'late,  to  the  loss 
of  Lord  James.  I  could  hear  'em  hailing 
each  other,  asking,  "  What's  become  of  my  golf 
stockings  ?  "  and  the  like  of  that.  Trouble  seemed 
to  be  that  they  had  too  many  clothes.  If  they'd 
been  limited  to  one  suit  for  Sunday  and  a  pair  of 
overalls  to  cover  up  the  ruins  the  rest  of  the  week, 
like  I  was,  they'd  have  got  along  better. 

But  they  was  rigged  at  last  and  at  breakfast  was 
chipper  as  a  pair  of  mackerel  gulls.  They  com- 
menced to  talk  garden.  Consarn  'em,  I  hoped 
they'd  forgot  that. 

"  The  loam  business  is  all  right,  Sol,"  says  Van. 
11  Scudder  will  bring  us  loam  at  three  dollars  a  boat 
load.     He  says  it  '11  take  about  fifteen  boat  loads." 

"He  does,  hey?"  says  I.  "At  three  dollars 
per?     That's  generous  of  him.     Anything  else?  " 

"  Yes.  He  is  to  continue  to  bring  us  milk.  We 
iS7 


i58  MR.  PRATT 

have  decided  that  perhaps  for  the  present  we  had 
better  not  keep  a  cow." 

Small  favors  thankfully  received.  I  was  glad 
that  milking  wa'n't  going  to  be  added  to  the  gen- 
eral joy  fulness. 

"  I  think  that's  a  nice  far-sighted  decision,"  says 
I.  "Unless  you  could  learn  your  cow  to  eat  sea- 
weed, I  don't  see " 

"  Oh,  Scudder  could  bring  us  hay,"  says  Van. 
11  And  we  could  give  the  animal  the  spare  vege- 
tables from  the  garden." 

"  Twould  be  a  long  time  between  meals  for  the 
poor  critter,  I'm  afraid,"  says  I.  "  How  much  is 
Nate  charging  for  the  milk  ?  " 

"  Nine  cents  a  quart.  That's  only  one  cent 
imore  than  you  have  to  pay  in  New  York,  and, 
when  you  consider  how  far  he  has  to  bring  it,  / 
call  it  dirt  cheap." 

Well,  'twas  about  as  cheap  as  the  garden  dirt, 
but  I  didn't  say  nothing. 

11  We're  going  to  raise  chickens  too,"  says  Hart- 
ley. "  Scudder,  so  Van  says,  will  sell  us  live  Ply- 
mouth Rocks  at  thirty  cents  a  pound.  Skipper,  you 
might  fix  up  the  poultry  yard  in  your  spare  time." 

In  my  spare  time.  There  was  a  joke  in  that, 
but  it  wa'n't  so  intended. 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       159 

Then  Van  Brunt  began  to  preach  "  pig." 
Seems  Nate  had  told  him  that  the  one  thing  need- 
ful to  turn  Ozone  Island  into  a  genuine  Natural 
Life  heaven  was  a  pig,  and  of  course  he,  Nate, 
had  the  only  pig  in  creation  that  was  worth  buy- 
ing. 

"  He  showed  it  to  me  the  other  morning,"  says 
Van.  "  The  pfettiest  little  black  and  white  fel- 
low you  ever  saw,  Martin.  Miss  Talford  saw 
him  yesterday  because  she  came  over,  and  she  said 
he  was  a  dear.  You  might  be  repairing  a  sty  for 
him  in  your  odd  moments,  Sol." 

My  odd  moments,  and  my  even  ones  too,  was 
pretty  well  filled  up  for  the  next  few  days.  The 
Heavenlies  loafed  and  superintended  and  smoked 
and  fished  and  ate.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  turn 
out  with  the  gulls,  and  cook  breakfast,  and  clear 
away,  and  wash  dishes,  and  build  hen  yards,  and 
fix  up  a  leaky  pig  pen,  and  get  ready  them  blessed 
gardens,  and  sweep  and  dust,  and  dig  clams,  and 
make  beds,  and  get  dinner,  and  sail  a  boat,  and 
chop  wood,  and  bundle  up  washing  for  Nate  to 
take  to  Huldy  Ann,  and  scour  knives,  and — and — 
well,  there  was  plenty  more.  Seven  or  eight  hun- 
dred odd  jobs  have  slipped  my  memory. 

The    gardens   was   ready   for   planting   on    a 


i6o  MR.  PRATT 

Wednesday.  Nate  fetched  over  the  last  dory  load 
of  loam  the  night  afore  and  I  spread  it  afore  I  got 
supper.  The  chickens  and  the  hog  was  to  come 
on  Thursday.  I  was  to  take  the  skiff  and  go  after 
'em,  Nate  being  engaged  to  cart  a  carry-all  load 
of  boarders  to  Ostable.  Huldy  Ann  was  to  have 
the  live  stock  at  the  shore  ready  for  me. 

"How's  the  menagerie  coming,  Nate?"  I 
asked.     "  In  cages  or  on  the  hoof?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  box  'em  for  you,  Sol,"  he  says.  "  The 
hens  in  one  box  and  the  pig  in  another.  The  pig's 
pretty  thin — I  mean  young,  so  he  won't  be  no 
heft  to  you." 

Wednesday  morning  the  Heavenly  gardening 
begun.  One  patch  was  for  Van  Brunt  and  the 
other  for  Hartley.  They  had  seeds  by  the  peck, 
more  or  less,  brought  over  by  Scudder's  express 
and  charged  for  at  undertaker's  prices.  The 
Twins  started  in  with  a  vengeance.  I  showed  'em 
how.  For  once  I  was  superintendent  and  the  job 
suited  me  fine — nothing  would  have  tickled  me 
more,  unless  'twas  to  turn  in  and  take  a  nap. 

Van  takes  one  hoe  and  Hartley  the  other.  Each 
of  'em  was  actually  round-shouldered  from  the 
weight  of  the  seeds  in  their  pockets.  They  had 
cucumber  seeds,  and  melon  seeds,  and  land  knows 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       161 

what.  Wonder  to  me  was  they  didn't  try  oranges 
and  pineapples.     And.  it  the  middle  of  July ! 

"  Now  Martin,"  says  Van.  "  Here  goes !  Bet 
you  fifty  I  get  the  first  cucumber." 

M  I'll  go  you,"  says  Martin,  shucking  his  jacket. 
"Sol,  what  do  I  do  next?" 

I  showed  him.  I  started  'em  even  on  cucum- 
ber beds.  They  hoed  like  they  went  by  steam. 
You  never  see  such  ambitious  farmers  in  your  life 
as  they  was — just  then. 

II  Kind  of  hard  work,  ain't  it?  "  says  I,  watch- 
ing their  front  hair  get  damp  and  stick  to  their 
foreheads. 

11  Work? "  says  Van.  "  This  is  recreation, 
man!  " 

"  All  right,"  I  says.  "  Heave  ahead  and  recre- 
ate.    I've  got  to  work,  myself." 

So  I  went  in  and  swept  out  the  dining  room. 
Once  in  a  while,  through  the  open  window,  I'd 
get  a  sight  of  'em  laying  into  the  cucumber  beds, 
with  the  sun  blazing  down.  I  grinned.  When  the 
boot's  been  on  one  leg  too  long  it's  kind  of  nice 
to  see  somebody  else's  corns  get  pinched. 

When  they  come  into  dinner  they  was  just  slop- 
ping over  with  joy.  Gardening  was  more  fun 
than  a  barrel  of  monkeys.     But  I  noticed  that  when 


.62  MR.  PRATT 

Van  got  up  from  the  table  he  riz  kind  of  "  steady 
by  jerks  "  as  if  he  had  kinks  in  his  back,  and  Mar- 
tin moved  his  shoulders  slow  and  easy  and  said 
"  Ouch!  "  under  his  breath  when  he  reached  too 
far. 

They  didn't  seem  to  be  in  any  real  hurry  to  get 
back  to  work,  either.  Stayed  on  the  porch,  and 
smoked  two  cigars  instead  of  one.  I  had  to 
chuck  out  a  hint  about  getting  them  seeds  covered 
up  quick  afore  they'd  leave  their  chairs.  Then 
they  went,  and  I  could  see  the  hoes  moving;  but 
they  moved  slower. 

They  turned  in  right  after  supper,  which  was 
unusual.  Next  morning  I  didn't  hear  a  word 
about  gardens.  The  conversation  was  pretty  lim- 
ited and  doleful,  being  separated  with  grunts  and 
groans,  so  to  speak.  When  Van  Brunt  dropped 
his  napkin  he  hollered  to  me  to  come  and  pick  it 
up,  and  Hartley  fed  with  his  left  hand  and 
kept  the  right  in  his  jacket  side  pocket.  They 
didn't  seem  to  enjoy  that  meal  half  so  much  as 
I  did. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  to  brighten  things  up ;  "  I  cal'- 
late  them  cucumbers  is  ready  to  eat,  pretty  nigh, 
by  this  time.  Started  on  your  corn  yet?  No? 
Well,  you  mustn't  lose  no  time.     It's  late  in  the 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK        163 

season  now.     Come  along  with  me  and  I'll  get  you 
going." 

I  headed  for  the  door  as  I  spoke.  They  looked 
at  each  other  again. 

"  It's  pretty  cloudy  for  planting,  isn't  it?  "  asks 
Hartley.  "  We  might  be  caught  in  the  rain,  you 
know." 

II  Rain  your  granny!  "  says  I.  "  Them  clouds 
is  nothing  but  heat  fog.     It'll  burn  right  off." 

11  Wait  till  we  finish  our  cigars,  skipper,"  says 
Van. 

"  No,"  says  I.  "  You  can  smoke  and  plant  at 
the  same  time.  Smoke  '11  drive  away  the  mos- 
quitoes." 

They  got  up  then  and  followed  me  out.  The 
hoes  was  laying  by  the  beds  and  I  handed  'em  one 
apiece.  They  took  'em,  not  with  what  you'd  call 
enthusiasm,  but  more  the  way  the  boy  took  the 
licking — believing  'twas  more  blessed  to  give  than 
to  receive.  The  cucumber  beds  was  begun  beauti- 
ful, the  first  hills  rounded  up  fine  and  lovely.  But 
the  tail  end  ones  looked  like  the  pauper  section  of 
the  burying  ground,  more  useful  than  ornamental. 
I  showed  'em  how  to  riant  the  corn  nnd  went 
away,  leaving  'em  leaning  on  their  hoes,  with  a 
kind  of  halo  of  mosquitoes  around  their  heads. 


!64  MR.  PRATT 

My  talk  about  smoke  was  more  or  less  sarcastic?, 
the  mosquitoes  on  Horsefoot  Ozone  was  smoke- 
cured  and  fire-proof. 

I  got  the  breakfast  work  done  about  ten  o'clock 
and  then  'twas  time  to  go  after  the  pig  and  the 
hens.  I  took  the  skiff  oars  out  of  the  barn  and 
then  walked  around  by  the  gardens  to  see  how 
things  was  getting  on.  There  laid  the  hoes  by  the 
places  where  the  corn-hills  was  intended  to  be,  but 
there  wa'n't  any  corn-hills  nor  any  Heavenly  gar- 
deners either;  not  a  sign  of  'em.  I  hailed  once 
or  twice  but  didn't  get  any  answer.  Then  I  went 
on  down  to  the  skiff.  And  there  they  was, 
sprawled  out  in  the  shade  of  the  pines,  as  com- 
fortable as  you  please. 

"  Hello,  skipper,"  says  Van  Brunt,  turning  over 
on  one  elbow.  "  We've  been  waiting  for  you. 
We're  going  with  you  after  the  livestock." 

"  You  are?  "  says  I.  "  Got  your  farming  done 
so  early?  " 

M  No-o,"  he  drawls.  "  Not  precisely.  The 
fact  is,  Sol,  Hartley  and  I  have  decided  that  agri- 
cultural labors  are  not— " 

"Labors?"  says  I,  shoving  the  skiff  into  the 
water.     "Thought  'twas  recreation." 

"  For  definition  see  dictionary,"  he  says.     "  It's 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       165 

a  painful  condition,  not  a  theory,  with  us,  just 
now.  Martin  and  I  are  convinced  that  what  we 
need  is  a  sea  voyage.     Come  on,  Martin." 

Hartley  got  up,  pretty  average  gingerly,  and 
they  climbed  into  the  skiff.  I  pushed  off  and 
begun  to  row. 

11  Well,"  I  says,  after  9.  minute  or  two,  "  it  ain't 
for  me  to  suggest  anything,  but,  just  for  greens — 
like  the  old  woman  stewed  the  burdock  leaves — I'd 
like  to  mention  that  if  you  want  vegetables  with 
the  dew,  and  not  icicles  on  'em,  you'd  better  be 
getting  the  rest  of  them  seeds  into  the  ground. 
What's  the  present  standing  of  that  cucumber 
bet?" 

Van  didn't  open  his  eyes.  "  You  win  it,"  he 
says,  lazy. 

I  stopped  rowing  and  looked  at  him  over  my 
shoulder. 

"  Meaning — what?  "  says  I. 

M  Just  that.  You  win  the  bet.  Likewise  you 
cultivate  the  cucumbers.  Martin  and  I,  in  con- 
vention assembled,  have  nominated  you  for  Secre- 
tary of  Agriculture.     We  resign." 

I'd  been  expecting  it.  And  I'd  made  up  my 
mind  what  to  say.  But  I  hated  to  say  it.  Thinks 
I,  "  I'll  wait  till  I  get  back  to  Ozone." 


166  MR.  PRATT 

So  I  didn't  answer,  but  went  to  rowing  again. 
The  tide  was  going  out  fast  and  'twas  a  hard  pull, 
three  of  us  in  that  little  skiff,  but  by  and  by  we 
reached  the  main.  And  there  was  Scudder's  hired 
boy  waiting  for  us. 

"Hello,"  says  I.  "Where's  Huldy  Ann- 
Mrs.  Scudder,.I  mean?  " 

"  She  couldn't  come,"  said  the  boy.  "  But  I 
fetched  the  hens  and  things.     Here  they  be." 

He  had  the  hens — a  dozen  of  'em — jammed  into 
one  lath  coop.  The  door  of  it  was  fastened  with 
a  shaky  wood  button. 

11  Handle  'em  kind  of  careful,"  says  he.  **  That 
button  undoes  itself  sometimes." 

11  Where's  the  pig?  "  says  Hartley. 

"  Here  he  is." 

We  could  hear  him.  He  wa'n't  in  a  box  at  all, 
as  he'd  ought  to  have  been  according  to  contract, 
but  setting  in  the  sand  with  his  hind  legs  tied 
together  with  string.  He  was  whirling  in  circles 
with  his  tail  for  a  pivot,  so  to  speak,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  mainly  squeal.  Little  he  was,  and  thin — 
'peared  to  me  to  be  thin  as  Nate's  milk  of  human 
kindness — but  the  Heavenlies  fell  down  and  wor- 
shipped him  like  he  was  a  hog  angel. 

"  Humph!  "  says  I.     "  Is  that  the  '  dear '?  " 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       167 

"  That's  the  dear,"  says  Van,  patting  him  at 
long  distance. 

Well,  he  weighed  four  pound  and  cost  six  dol- 
lars, so  that's  dear  enough  for  anybody. 

I  loaded  the  critters  into  the  skiff — the  pig  fairly 
sung  psalms  while  I  was  doing  it — and  then  the 
Twins  climbed  aboard. 

"  All  right,  skipper,"  says  Van.     "  Shove  off." 

"  Just  a  minute,"  says  I.  "  What  am  /  going 
to  do — take  the  next  train  ?  This  transport  seems 
to  be  pretty  well  loaded." 

It  was.  Van  Brunt  was  on  the  amidships 
thwart.  Hartley  was  up  in  the  bow,  with  the  pig 
between  his  knees.  The  chicken  coop  was  piled  in 
the  stern.  I  ain't  no  dime  show  dwarf,  and  where 
I  was  going  to  stow  myself  was  too  much  for 
me. 

"  Humph !  "  says  Van.  "  It  does  look  standing 
room  only.  Here,  skipper;  you  kneel  on  the  back 
seat.     I'll  row." 

I  didn't  exactly  kneel,  but  I  straddled  across  the 
stern  somehow,  with  the  butt  end  of  the  hen  roost 
in  my  lap  and  my  feet  over  each  rail  just  clear  of 
the  wet. 

Nate's  boy  shoved  us  into  deep  water.  He 
had  to  take  off  his  shoes  and  stockings  to  do  it, 


168  MR.  PRATT 

and  he  was  laughing  so  that  he  made  mighty  poor 
headway. 

"  You  pesky  young  one ! "  says  I,  losing  pa- 
tience. "If  you  don't  tend  to  your  job  I'll  get 
out  and  duck  you.     What  are  you  giggling  at?  " 

"  I  ain't  giggling,"  says  he.  "  I'm  pushing. 
Ugh !    Haw !   haw  I   Ugh !    There  you  be  1  " 

He  gave  us  a  final  shove  and  then  went  back 
and  rolled  around  in  the  bushes.  Somebody  was 
having  a  good  time  if  we  wa'n't. 

We  moved  off  stately  and  slow,  like  an  ocean 
liner  leaving  her  dock.  We  didn't  have  any  band, 
but  the  pig  and  hens  furnished  music.  The  skiff's 
rail  was  almost  a-wash  and  my  heels  dipped  on 
every  little  wave. 

Van  rowed  like  a  good  one  till  he  got  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  across.  Then  the  tide  got  a  grip 
on  us  and  he  commenced  to  go  slower,  and  groan. 
He'd  miss  a  stroke  and  we'd  swing  half  way 
around.  We  was  going  broadside  on  most  of  the 
time. 

By  and  by  Hartley  spoke  up. 

"  What  makes  this  pig  kick  so?  "  says  he,  like 
'twas  some  kind  of  a  conundrum.  The  critter 
seemed  to  be  doing  his  best  to  answer  it,  but  his 
language  wa'n't  understandable. 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       169 

"  You  look  out  he  don't  kick  that  string  off  his 
legs,"  I  hollers.  I  had  to  holler  to  make  myself 
heard  above  the  choir. 

He  bent  forward  and  looked  down.  "  Why !  " 
says  he.  "  I'll  be  shot  if  he  hasn't  done  it  al- 
ready." 

"  Hang  on  to  him  then !  "  I  yells.  "  For  the 
land  sakes  don't  let  him  loose." 

Van  Brunt  gives  a  final  groan  and  stops  the 
oars. 

"  No  use,  skipper,"  he  says.  "  My  cucumber 
recreation  has  put  me  out  of  the  race.  I  wouldn't 
row  another  stroke  for  the  control  of  the  Standard 
Oil.  .You'll  have  to  be  shofer  the  rest  of  the 
way." 

I  didn't  know  what  a  "  shofer  "  was  and  I  don't 
know  now;  but  I  could  see  trouble  coming. 

"  Set  where  you  be !  "  I  shouted.  "  Don't 
move.     Thunderation !     There  you  go!" 

The  pesky  idiot  had  stood  up  to  stretch,  leaving 
the  oars  in  the  rowlocks.  Course  the  skiff  swung 
broadside  on  and  a  wave  knocked  the  starboard 
oar  overboard.  Hartley  see  it  going  and  made  a 
jump  and  a  grab.  He  missed  it,  you  might  know, 
but  he  let  go  of  the  pig. 

I  ripped  out  a  lively  kind  of  speech  and  dove 


i7o  MR.  PRATT 

for  the  port  oar.  The  hen  coop  was  in  my  way 
and  it  and  me  went  headfirst  into  Van  Brunt's 
shirt  front.  When  I  got  out  of  the  mix-up,  both 
oars  was  ten  yards  astern,  the  pig  was  doing  three 
laps  a  minute  over  us  and  under  the  thwarts,  and 
the  hens  was  all  out  of  jail  and  proud  of  it.  Like- 
wise we  was  drifting  out  to  sea. 

"Hell!"  says  I.  "  This  is  nice,  ain't  it?  Get 
out,  you  varmint !  "  This  last  part  was  to  a 
pullet  that  was  flapping  on  my  shoulders. 

Would  you  believe  it,  all  them  Heavenly  loons 
done  was  to  laugh.     They  just  roared. 

"Ho!  ho!"  whoops  Hartley.  "Oh,  dear 
me !     This  is  worth  the  price  of  admission." 

"  Ha !  ha !  "  cackles  Van,  puffing  for  breath,  and 
shoving  the  pig  out  of  his  lap.  "  This  is  the  best 
ever!  The  floating  garden  of  Eden!  Or  the 
Ark!  Say,  Martin;  I  begin  to  sympathize  with 
Noah." 

"  Noah  sent  out  a  dove,  if  I  remember  right," 
says  Hartley.  "  Wonder  if  it  would  work  with  a 
chicken?     Where's  our  Ararat,  skipper?  " 

I  was  mad  clean  through.  Here  was  twice  that 
I'd  been  made  a  fool  of  on  salt  water.  I  wa'n't 
used  to  it  and  it  hurt. 

"  The  Ark  was  afloat  for  forty  odd  days;  you 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       171 

want  to  remember  that"  says  I.  "  And  this 
skiff  won't  float  forty  minutes,  loaded  the  way  she 
is,  if  she  drifts  outside  that  point." 

"  Then  she  musn't  drift  there,"  says  Van,  cheer- 
ful. "  I  don't  want  to  get  wet — not  now,  with 
James  gone.  This  is  the  only  presentable  suit  I've 
got  left.  If  this  is  wrecked  you'll  have  to  press 
it,  Sol." 

My,  but  I  was  hopping !  Talking  about  press- 
ing clothes,  and  us  next  door  to  going  to  the 
bottom ! 

"  I'll  press  nothing,"  says  I.  "  And  I'll  say 
right  now,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  that  I  won't  'tend  to 
them  gardens.     You  hear " 

Van  waved  his  hand.  "  Your  salary  from  now 
on,"  he  says,  "  will  be " 

"  No,  it  won't.  My  salary's  big  enough.  It's 
me  that's  short — short  about  twenty-six  hours  out 
of  the  twenty-four.  If  I  was  two  men  I  might  do 
what's  needful,  but  as  'tis  I  can't.  I  like  you  both 
first-rate — when  you  ain't  too  crazy — but  either 
you'll  have  to  get  me  a  helper,  or  I'll  have  to  quit. 
That  is,  if  we  get  out  of  this  mess  alive,  which  ain't 
likely." 

All  the  time  I  was  preaching  this  way  I  was 
tugging  at  the  'midships  thwart.     Finally  I  got  it 


i72  MR.  PRATT 

loose  and  shoved  it  over  the  stern.  I  was  going 
to  try  to  scull  with  it. 

The  Heavenlies  was  completely  upset.  Not 
by  the  fear  of  drowning — drat  'em.  I  don't  cal'- 
late  they  was  afraid  of  anything — but  my  talk  of 
quitting  seemed  to  knock  'em  silly. 

"  By  Jove !  you  know,"  says  Van.  "  This  is 
serious,  skipper.    You  can't  mean  it." 

"  You  bet  I  can !  "  I  says,  sculling  like  all  pos- 
sessed with  one  arm,  and  fighting  pullets  with  the 
other. 

"  You're  not  going,"  says  Van,  decided. 
"You're — simply — not.     Is  he,  Martin?" 

11 1  should  say  not,"  says  t'other  Twin.  "  Sol, 
if  you  want  more  money — or  assistants — or  any- 
thing, why,  all  right.  But  we  want  you.  And 
we're  going  to  keep  you." 

"  That's  settled  then,"  says  Van,  quick. 
"  What  kind  of  help  do  you  want — and  how 
many?  " 

"  Well,"  I  says,  cooling  down  a  mite — of 
course  I  was  pleased  to  find  they  liked  me 
so  well.  "  Well,"  I  says,  "  if  you  could  get 
somebody  to  cook  and  help  'round  the  house, 
maybe  I " 

"A  cook?"  says  Van.     "Good!     We  get  a 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK        175 

cook — two  cooks — ten  of  'em,  if  you  say  so.  And 
we  get  'em  quick." 

"  Let's  get  ashore  first,"  says  I.  "  I've  got  to 
make  the  point  there  or  we'll  get " 

"  Our  finish,  hey?  "  he  says,  ending  the  sentence 
for  me.  "  All  right;  make  the  point."  Then  he 
got  out  a  cigar  and  went  to  smoking. 

But  I  wa'n't  by  no  means  sure  we  would  make 
the  point.  'Twas  the  east'ard  end  of  Ozone 
Island  I  was  aiming  for.  The  tide  set  in  strong 
there  and  I  could  see  that  the  skiff  would  pretty 
nigh  hit  the  beach,  if  I  had  luck. 

We  zig-zagged  along.  Pretty  soon  we  got  to 
where  the  waves  was  running  higher.  They  com- 
menced to  slop  into  the  boat. 

"  She'll  go  under,  sure's  you're  born,"  says  L 
"  If  I  can  only  keep  her  up  till  we  get  into  shoal 
water." 

"  I  seem  to  have  acquired  the  castaway  habit," 
says  Van.  "  Once  in  that  other  boat  of  yours,  Sol, 
and  now  in  this  one.  I  must  swear  off.  This  is 
getting  monotonous." 

The  swells  run  bigger  as  we  neared  the  point. 
The  skiff  was  half  full  and  the  slopping  and  the 
motion  stirred  up  the  menagerie.  Such  squealing 
and  squawking  and  flapping  you  never  heard  nor 


i74  MR.  PRATT 

saw.  Them  hens  was  all  over  us  and  the  pig 
underneath. 

We  riz  on  a  wave  and  begun  to  capsize. 

"  Here  we  go !  "  I  yelled.    "  Stand  by !  " 

Over  we  went.  The  hens  had  the  best  of  us  in 
a  way — they  could  fly  after  a  fashion.  I  wished  I 
could.  Lucky  the  water  wa'n't  more  than  waist 
deep. 

I  ploughed  through  the  sand  and  undertow  and 
got  to  the  beach.  Hartley  come  next,  toting  the 
pig  by  one  leg.  The  "  dear  "  wriggled  loose  and 
headed  for  the  pines,  hurrahing  like  a  saw-mill. 
The  most  of  the  hens  had  gone  on  ahead. 

"  Humph !  "  says  somebody.  "  You're  pretty 
wet,  ain't  you?  " 

I  rubbed  the  wet  sand  out  of  my  eyes.  There 
on  a  sand  hummock  in  front  of  us  was  a  girl.  A 
queer  looking  female  she  was,  too.  Reminded  me 
some  of  Hannah  Jane  Purvis,  being  built  on  the 
same  spare  lines  and  having  the  same  general  look 
of  being  all  corners.  She  had  on  a  striped  calico 
dress,  stripes  running  up  and  down,  and  her  belt 
went  across  the  middle  of  the  stripes  as  straight  as 
if  'twas  laid  out  with  a  spirit  level.  I  couldn't  see 
her  face  good,  for  she  had  on  a  sunbonnet  and 
'twas  like  peeking  at  her  through  a  nail  keg,  but 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  ARK       175 

she  had  snapping  black  eyes  and  moved  quick, 
which  wa'n't  Hannah  Jane's  way  by  a  good  sight. 
I  stood  and  stared  at  her. 

"  I  say  you're  pretty  wet,  ain't  you?  "  she  says 
again,  louder.  "Why  don't  you  say  something? 
Are  you  hard  of  hearing?  " 

Before  I  could  get  my  bearings  enough  to 
answer,  Van  Brunt  comes  dripping  alongside.  He 
was  still  holding  the  cigar  stump  in  his  mouth  and 
he  had  one  of  the  Plymouth  Rocks — the  rooster, 
as  it  happened — squeezed  tight  under  one  arm. 

"  Well,  skipper,"  he  says,  "  the  Ark  has 
stranded  and  the  animals  may  now  —  Hello! 
What?    Who?" 

He  looked  at  the  girl  and  she  at  him.  Then  he 
says  brisk — 

"  Can  you  cook?  " 


CHAPTER   XI 
EUREKA 

WHATEVER  that  girl  might  have  ex- 
pected from  us,  I  guess  she  didn't 
expect  that.  It  set  her  back  so  that  she 
couldn't  speak  for  a  full  minute ;  which  was  some- 
thing of  a  miracle,  as  I  found  out  later. 

"  Can  I  what?  "  she  says,  finally. 

"  Can  you  cook?  "  asks  Van  Brunt  again. 

"  Can  I —  "  Then  she  turns  to  me.  "  He 
ought  to  be  attended  to  right  off,"  she  says,  refer- 
ring to  Van.  "  Some  of  that  wet  has  soaked  in 
and  he's  got  water  on  the  brain.  Take  that  poor 
rooster  away  from  him  afore  he  squeezes  it  to 
death." 

Van  laughed  and  dropped  the  rooster.  I  cal'late 
he'd  forgot  that  he  had  it.  "  Let  me  explain,"  he 
begun.     "  You  see,  we " 

Hartley  spoke  then.  "  Wait  a  minute,"  says  he, 
laughing.  "  I  suggest  that  we  adjourn  to  the  house 
and  get  into  some  dry  clothes.  Then  we  can  talk 
business,  if  the  young  lady  is  willing." 

176 


EUREKA  i77 

The  girl  looked  at  him.  "  Business  is  what  I'm 
here  for,"  says  she.  "  Which  of  you  three  is  the 
quahaug  one?  " 

"  The  which?  "  says  I;  and  the  Heavenlies  both 
said  the  same. 

"  Which  of  you  is  the  quahaug  one  ?  I've  got 
some  business  to  talk  with  him." 

"  Martin,"  says  Van,  grave,  and  turning  to  hi? 
chum.    "  Are  you  a  '  quahaug  one  '  ?  " 

"  I  guess  he  is,"  says  I.  I  was  beginning  to  see 
a  light.  Hartley's  clamming  cruise  was  turning 
out  as  I'd  expected. 

"  Humph!  "  says  the  girl.  "  Well,  you  made  a 
clean  job,  Lys  says.  About  three  buckets  and  a 
half,  wa'n't  they?" 

You  never  see  a  man  so  puzzled  as  Hartley, 
unless  'twas  Van  Brunt.  They  looked  at  each 
other,  at  the  girl,  and  then  at  me.    I  explained. 

"  I  judge  'twas  this  young  woman's  quahaug 
bed  that  you  and  James  cleaned  out  t'other  day,"  I 
says.  "  You  remember  I  told  you  we'd  hear  from 
them  quahaugs  later." 

"  Oh !  "  says  Martin.  "  Awfully  sorry,  I'm 
sure.    I  hope  you'll  permit  me  to  pay  for " 

She  bobbed  the  sunbonnet  up  and  down. 
"  That's  what  I  come  for,"  says  she.    "  They  was 


i78  MR.  PRATT 

my  brother  Lycurgus's  quahaugs.  He'd  just 
bedded  'em.  Quahaugs  is  worth  a  dollar  a 
bucket  this  time  of  year.  That's  three  dollars  and 
a  half.  I  won't  charge  you  for  the  sticks,  though 
what  on  earth  you  done  with  them  is  more'n  I  can 
make  out,  and  Lys  says  the  same." 

Van  was  grinning  from  ear  to  ear.  T'other 
Twin  reached  into  his  pocket  and  fished  out  a  sop- 
ping-wet pocketbook. 

"Will  the  three  fifty  be  sufficient?"  he  asks, 
troubled.  "  I'm  really  very  sorry.  It  was  a  mis- 
take, and " 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  says  the  girl.  "  You  didn't 
know  no  better.  Pa  says  fools  and  children  ain't 
accountable.  You'd  better  spread  that  money  out 
to  dry  'fore  you  pay  me  with  it.  And  you'd  better 
get  dry  yourself  or  you'll  catch  cold.  I  can  wait 
a  spell,  I  guess.  Why  don't  you  go  after  your 
boat,  Mister?"  she  says  to  me.  "You'll  lose  it 
first  thing  you  know." 

I  looked  where  she  pointed,  and  there  was  the 
skiff  stranded  bottom  up  on  the  tip  end  of  the  point 
flat.  I  ran  after  it,  waded  in  and  hauled  it  ashore. 
The  Heavenlies  hurried  up  to  the  house.  When  I 
come  back  the  girl  was  waiting  for  me. 

"  I'll  walk  along  up  with  you,"  she  says.    "  Say, 


EUREKA  i79 

you're  Solomon  Pratt,  ain't  you?  I  heard  about 
you.  Nate  Scudder  told  pa.  He  said  he'd  let 
this  place  to  Sol  Pratt  and  a  couple  of  crazy  men 
from  New  York.  I  thought  sure  you'd  swear 
when  the  boat  upset,  but  you  didn't.  You 
must  belong  to  the  church.  What  are  you — 
Methodist?" 

I  grinned.  "  So  you  think  a  ducking  like  that 
would  be  apt  to  make  a  man  swear,  do  you?" 
says  I. 

II  Yup,  if  he  hadn't  got  religion.  Pa'd  have 
cussed  a  blue  streak.  You'd  ought  to  hear  him 
when  he  has  his  nervous  dyspepsy  spells.  Did  you 
say  you  was  a  Methodist?  " 

11  No-o,  I  guess  I  didn't.  Let's  see.  Did  you 
say  your  name  was  Dusenberry?  " 

She  stopped  and  kind  of  fizzed,  like  a  teakettle 
biling  over.  "Sakes  alive !  "  she  snaps.  "  I  hope 
not !  Do  I  look  as  if  I  was  carting  a  name  like  that 
around?  My  name's  Sparrow — Eureka  Fiorina 
Sparrow.     What's  the  matter — anything?  " 

"  No,  not  'special.  You  kind  of  fetched  me  up 
into  the  wind,  striking  me  head  on  so,  unexpected. 
Just  say  that  again  and  say  it  slow.  Eureka  Pe- 
runa — what  was  it?  " 

She  switched  around  and  stared  at  me  hard. 


i8o  MR.  PRATT 

u  Eureka — Fiorina — Sparrow,"  says  she,  slow  and 
distinct.    "  Want  me  to  spell  it  for  you?  " 

44  No,  thanks.  You  might  mix  me  up  some  if 
you  did.  I  had  to  leave  school  early.  Any  more 
in  your  family?  " 

11  Yup.  Seven  of  us,  counting  me — and  pa 
makes  eight." 

41  What's  their  names?  " 

14  Well,  there's  Lycurgus  and  Editha  and 
Ulysses  and  Napoleon  and  Marguerite  and  Dewey 
— he's  the  baby.  Great  names,  ain't  they?  Pa's 
doings,  naming  'em  that  way  was.  Pa  says  there's 
nothing  like  hitching  a  grand  name  to  a  young  one ; 
gives  'em  something  to  live  up  to,  he  says.  His 
own  name's  Washington,  but  he  ain't  broke  his 
back  living  up  to  it,  far's  as  I  can  see ;  and  ma  used 
to  say  the  same  afore  she  died." 

44  O-o-h!  "  says  I.  44 1  see."  I  knew  who  she 
was  now.  I  hadn't  lived  around  Wellmouth  so 
very  long,  but  I'd  heard  of  Washington  Sparrow. 
He  lived  in  a  little  slab  shanty  off  in  the  woods 
about  a  mile  from  Scudder's,  and  had  the  name  of 
being  the  laziest  man  in  town. 

We'd  reached  the  house  by  this  time  and  I  left 
Eureka  Fiorina  in  the  kitchen  and  went  to  my 
room  to  change  my  duds.    When  I  come  down  the 


EUREKA  181 

Twins  was  in  the  kitchen,  too,  and  I  could  hear  the 
Sparrow  girl's  tongue  going  like  a  house  afire. 
Martin  had  just  paid  her  for  the  quahaugs  and  she 
was  telling  how  scarce  they'd  got  to  be  in  the  bay, 
and  how  her  brother  had  worked  to  get  a  few 
bedded  and  how  he'd  sold  a  couple  of  quarts  to  the 
Baptist  minister's  wife  and  what  she  said  about 
'em,  and  so  on.  The  Heavenlies  seemed  to  be 
enjoying  every  minute  of  it,  judging  by  the  way 
they  laughed. 

"  Introduce  us  to  the  lady,  skipper,"  says  Van, 
when  I  come  in. 

I  done  the  honors.  "  She's  one  of  Washy  Spar- 
row's tribe — I  mean  family,"  says  I.  "  They  live 
over  in  the  woods  hereabouts." 

"  I  guess  tribe'll  do,"  says  Eureka,  cutting  in 
quick.  "  There's  pretty  near  enough  of  us  to  make 
a  town,  seems  sometimes.  You'd  think  so  if  you 
had  to  get  meals  for  'em,  same's  I  do." 

"You!  "  says  I.  "  Do  you  cook  for  all  that 
gang?    How  old  are  you?  " 

"  Seventeen  last  March.  Cook  for 'em?  Guess 
I  do !  And  scratch  to  get  things  to  cook,  too ;  else 
we'd  have  to  live  on  salt  air  pudding  with  wind 
sass.  I  take  in  washing,  and  Lycurgus  he  goes 
fishing  and  clamming  and  choring  around,   and 


i82  MR.  PRATT 

Editha  helps  me  iron,  and  we  all  take  watch  and 
watch  looking  out  for  the  young  ones." 

Hartley  spoke  then.  "  We're  looking  for  a 
cook,"  he  says.  "  Will  you  come  and  cook  for  us, 
and  help  about  the  house  here?  Mr.  Pratt  finds 
the  job  too  big  for  one  man." 

She  bobbed  her  head.  "  Yup,"  says  she,  dry 
as  a  chip.  "  I  should  think  he  might,  judging  by 
what  I've  seen.  No,  I  can't  come.  I've  got  to 
stay  home  and  look  out  for  the  folks." 

"  Why  can't  your  father  do  that?"  asks 
Hartley. 

"  Who — pa?  I  guess  you  ain't  heard  about  pa. 
He's  sick.  Got  his  never-get-over,  he  says.  Pa's 
had  most  every  kind  of  symptom  there  is ;  phthisic 
and  influency  and  lumbago  and  pleurisy.  Now 
he's  settled  down  to  consumption  and  nervous 
dyspepsy.  Afore  ma  died  she  used  to  try  to  cure 
him,  but  the  doctor  and  pa  had  a  row.  The  doctor 
said  pa  didn't  have  consumption  nor  nothing  else; 
what  he  needed  was  hard  exercise,  such  as  work. 
Pa  said  the  doc  didn't  know  his  business,  and  the 
doc  said  maybe  not,  but  he  knew  pa.  So  pa  told 
him  never  to  darken  our  door  again,  and  he  ain't — 
except  to  come  around  once  in  a  while  and  collect 
something  from  me  on  the  bill." 


EUREKA  183 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  maybe  you  know  somebody 
else  that  would  do  for  us.  Who's  a  good  cook  and 
general  housekeeper  that  would  be  likely  to  hire 
out?" 

She  thought  for  a  moment  or  so.  "  I  don't 
know,"  she  says.  "  Most  folks  in  this  neighbor- 
hood is  too  high-toned  to  go  out  working.  They'd 
rather  stay  to  home  and  take  boarders.  Mrs. 
Hannah  Jane  Purvis  is  about  the  only  one,  and 
you've  had  her." 

Martin  made  a  face.    "  We  have,"  he  says. 

"  Yup,"  says  Eureka.  "  She  told  Mr.  Scudder 
that  you  was  crazy  as  all  get  out,  and  sunk  in 
worldly  sin  besides.  She  said  you'd  get  your  pay 
hereafter  for  treating  her  the  way  you  did." 

"  We  hope  to,"  says  Van,  cheerful.  "  Now, 
Miss — er — Sparrow,  we  want  you  to  come  and 
help  us  out.  We're  Crusoes  on  a  desert  island 
and  we  need  a  Man — I  should  say  Woman — Fri- 
day. We'll  pay  you  so  much,"  he  says,  naming  a 
price  that  made  even  my  eyes  stick  out,  and  I  was 
used  to  high  prices  by  this  time. 

"A  month?"  she  says,  staring  at  him. 

"  A  week,"  says  he. 

She  had  a  queer  way  of  doing  everything  by 
jerks,  like  as  if  she  was  hung  on  wires  and  worked 


i84  MR.  PRATT. 

with  a  string.  Now  she  straightened  up  out  of  her 
chair  so  sudden  you  almost  expected  to  hear  her 
snap. 

"A  week?"  she  sings  out.  "Oh!"  Then  she 
looked  at  me. 

11  Oh,  it's  so,  if  he  says  so,"  says  I,  resigned  like. 

"  Land  sakes!  A  week!  I  never — but  it  ain't 
no  use.  What  would  become  of  pa  and  the  chil- 
dren?*' 

"  Couldn't  you  come  over  for  the  days,  at 
least?"  asks  Martin.  "You  might  go  home 
nights,  you  know." 

And  that's  the  way  it  ended,  finally.  The  Twins 
had  made  up  their  minds,  and  when  that  happened, 
heaven  and  earth  wouldn't  change  'em.  At  last 
Eureka  said  she'd  talk  it  over  with  her  folks,  and 
Van  Brunt  said  we  would  come  over  to  her  house 
next  day  and  get  the  decision. 

"  There  1  "  says  he,  when  the  Sparrow  girl  had 
gone.    "  Skipper,  the  cook  question  is  settled." 

"  Maybe  'tis,"  says  I.  "  Looks  to  me  as  if 
you'd  settled  it  the  way  the  feller  settled  the  coffee, 
by  upsetting  it.  For  chaps  that  pined  for  rest  and 
quiet  you  two  do  queer  things.  Do  you  realize 
what  getting  mixed  up  with  that  Sparrow  gang  is 
likely  to  mean  ?  " 

"  If  the  whole  flock  is  like  the  specimen  bird 


EUREKA  ,    185 

we've  seen,"  he  says,  "  it'll  mean  joy.  If  there  was 
one  thing  needed  to  make  Ozone  Island  a  delight, 
a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene,  that  original  would  be 
the  thing.  She's  a  circus  in  herself.  I  shall  dream 
to-night  of  pa  and  the  doctor.  Ho,  ho!  By  the 
way,  what's  her  Christian  name?" 

I  told  the  name — the  whole  of  it.  How  them 
Heavenlies  did  laugh. 

"  Eureka !  "  says  Hartley.     "  Splendid!  " 

"Eureka!"  says  Van.  "We  have  found  it! 
Sol,  let's  have  lunch." 

I  got  'em  something  to  eat  and  then  the  three 
of  us  put  in  the  afternoon  chasing  the  wild  animals. 
The  chickens  was  fairly  easy  to  get  hold  of;  I  laid 
a  trail  of  corn  up  to  the  door  of  the  hen-yard  and 
trapped  the  most  of  'em  that  way.  But  the  pig 
was  a  holy  terror.  He'd  had  his  experience  with 
Ozone  Islanders  that  morning  and  he  didn't  want 
any  more.  Up  and  down  that  blessed  sand  bar 
we  chased  him,  getting  upset  and  tiring  ourselves 
out.  The  pig  race  over  to  Eastwich  wa'n't  in  it. 
I  did  most  of  the  chasing;  the  Heavenlies  super- 
intended, as  usual,  and  give  orders  and  laughed. 
They  pretty  nigh  laughed  themselves  sick.  Finally 
the  critter  bolted  into  the  woodshed  and  I  locked 
the  door  on  him.  It  was  six  o'clock  when  I 
dumped  him  into  the  sty.    Of  all  the  Natural  Life 


i86  MR.  PRATT 

days  I'd  had  yet  this  one  was  the  liveliest  and  most 
wearing.  A  week  like  it  and  my  natural  place 
would  have  been  the  burying  ground.  I  cal'late  I 
lost  three  pound  that  afternoon.  I  was  getting  so 
thin  that  when  I  fell  down  my  legs  made  grooves 
in  the  sand. 

The  next  forenoon  me  and  Hartley  went  over 
to  close  the  cook  trade.  Van  wouldn't  go.  He 
said  the  gardening  and  the  shipwreck  and  the 
steeple-chase — meaning  the  pig  hunt — had  given 
him  sensations  enough  for  a  week  or  so;  he  had 
some  of  'em  with  him  yet.  So  Martin  said  he'd  go, 
for  my  sake.  I  borrowed  a  couple  of  spare  oars 
from  Scudder,  when  he  arrived  with  the  morning's 
dose  of  skim-milk  and  cream  and  butter,  and,  as 
I  took  care  to  row  the  skiff  this  time,  we  made  the 
passage  all  right.  Then  we  walked  up  to  the 
Sparrows'  nest. 

'Twas  a  pretty  shabby  looking  shack,  now  I  tell 
you.  Shingles  dropping  off,  and  fence  falling 
down,  and  a  general  shortage  of  man's  work  every- 
where. But  there  was  a  bed  of  bachelor's  buttons 
and  old  maid's  pinks  under  the  front  window,  and 
the  windows  themselves  was  clean  and  bright. 
Eureka  had  done  her  best  to  make  the  place 
homey;  you  could  see  that. 


EUREKA  187 

She  let  us  in  when  we  knocked  at  the  kitchen 
door.  Her  sleeves  was  rolled  up  and  there  was  a 
big  basket  of  clothes  by  the  steaming  washtub. 
Editha,  the  twelve-year-old,  was  grinding  at  the 
wringer  and  Dewey,  the  baby,  was  setting  on 
the  floor  playing  with  a  rag  doll.  The  rest  of  the 
tribe — except  Lycurgus,  who  had  gone  peddling 
clams — was  off  playing. 

Eureka,  she  apologized  for  things  being  so  up- 
set, but  there  wa'n't  any  need  for  apologies.  The 
house  was  plain  and  poor — you  could  see  that  it 
took  a  mighty  lot  of  stretching  to  make  both  ends 
come  in  sight  of  each  other,  let  alone  meet;  but 
'twas  clean  as  a  whistle.  Even  the  baby  was  clean, 
all  except  his  face  and  hands,  and  no  healthy  young 
one  ought  to  have  them  clean. 

"  Good  morning,"  says  Hartley.  "  Have  you 
decided  to  cook  for  us?  " 

She  bobbed  her  head  over  the  washtub.  "  I've 
decided  it,  if  pa  has,"  says  she.  "  He  ain't  made 
up  his  mind  yet.  He  wanted  to  sleep  on  it,  he  said. 
I  guess  he's  done  that.  Anyhow  he's  just  got  up. 
Step  right  into  the  dining-room  and  talk  to  him. 
You'll  have  to  excuse  me ;  I've  got  to  get  this  wash- 
ing done  afore  noon,  somehow." 


188  MR.  PRATT 

So  she  pitched  into  the  scrubbing,  bending  in  the 
middle  exactly  like  a  jointed  pocket-rule,  and  the 
Twin  and  me  went  into  the  dining-room. 

Washington  Sparrow  was  there.  There  wa'n't 
but  one  comfortable  rocking-chair  in  sight  and  he 
;was  in  that,  with  his  stocking  feet  resting  on  the 
ruins  of  a  haircloth  sofa.  He  was  pretty  husky 
looking,  seemed  to  me,  for  a  man  complicated  with 
consumption  and  nervous  dyspepsy,  but  his  face 
was  as  doleful  as  a  crape  bonnet,  and  'twas  plain 
that  he  couldn't  see  no  hope,  and  was  satisfied  with 
his  eyesight.  He  had  a  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth  and 
was  smoking  like  a  peat  fire. 

"How  are  you,  Mr.  Sparrow?"  says  Martin, 
bright  and  chipper.  "  How's  the  health  this 
morning?  " 

The  invalid  rolled  his  eyes  around,  but  he  didn't 
get  out  of  the  rocker.  Neither  did  he  take  them 
blue  yarn  socks  off  the  sofa. 

"Oh!"  says  he,  groaning  something  awful. 
"  I'm  miserable,  thank  you.  Set  down  and  make 
yourselves  to  home." 

There  was  only  three  settable  pieces  of  furniture 
in  the  room.  He  was  using  two  of  'em,  and  t'other 
was  a  child's  high  chair.  So  we  decided  to 
stand  up. 


EUREKA  189 

"  Don't  you  find  yourself  improving  this  beau- 
tiful weather?  "  asks  Hartley,  sympathetic. 

Washy  fetched  another  groan,  so  deep  that  I 
judged  it  started  way  down  in  the  blue  socks. 

"  No,"  says  he.  "  I'm  past  improving.  Just 
lingering  'round  now  and  suffering,  waiting  for  the 
end.  I  s'pose  Reky  told  you  what  I  had,  didn't 
she?" 

Hartley  looked  troubled.  "  Why,"  he  says, 
"she  did  say  that  you  feared  tuberculosis,  but " 

"  Tuber — nothing !  That's  just  like  her !  mak- 
ing fun  of  her  poor  sick  father.  What  I've  got  is 
old-fashioned  consumption."  Here  he  fetched  a 
cough  that  was  hollerer  than  the  groaning.  "Old- 
fashioned  consumption  and  nervous  dyspepsy. 
Can't  eat  a  meal's  vittles  in  comfort.  But  there! 
I'll  be  through  pretty  soon.  The  sooner  the 
quicker  /  say.  Everybody  '11  be  glad  when  I'm 
gone.  '  Don't,'  I  says  to  'em,  '  don't  rag  out  in  no 
mourning  for  me.  Don't  put  no  hot-house  wreaths 
on  my  grave.  I  know  how  you  feel  and — '  Get 
off  my  feet,  you  everlasting  young  one!  Think 
I'm  a  ladder?" 

This  last  part  was  to  Dewey,  who  had  come  in 
from  the  kitchen,  and  was  trying  to  climb  onto  the 
sofa. 


i9o  MR.  PRATT 

Martin  looked  like  he  didn't  know  what  to  say. 
By  and  by  he  cleared  his  throat  and  threw  out  a 
hint  concerning  Eureka's  coming  to  Ozone.  The 
sick  man  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  says.  "  I'm  self-sacrificing,  and  all 
that,  but  somehow  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  let 
her  go.  I  can't  bear  to  have  her  out  of  my  sight  a 
minute.  You  can't  begin  to  think,  Mr.  What's- 
your-name,  what  a  comfort  'tis  to  me,  agonizing 
here  and  suffering,  to  have  Reky  setting  down 
alongside  of  me  day  after  day,  the  way  she  does. 
You  can't  begin  to  think  it,  Mister." 

/  couldn't  begin  to  think  it — not  without  what 
the  doctor  calls  "  stimulants."  The  amount  of  set- 
ting down  that  poor  hard-working  Eureka  got 
time  for  wouldn't  comfort  anybody  much,  it 
seemed  to  me. 

11  She's  my  favorite  child,"  went  on  Washy, 
swabbing  his  eyes.  "  She  always  was,  too.  Even 
when  she  was  a  baby  I  thought  more  of  her  than 
I  done  of  all  the  others." 

Eureka  must  have  been  listening,  for  she  called 
from  the  kitchen. 

"  Why,  pa!  "  she  says.  "  When  I  was  a  baby 
there  wa'n't  any  others.     I'm  the  oldest." 

The  invalid  bounced  up  straight  in  the  rocker. 


EUREKA  191 

"  That's  it!"  he  hollers.  "Make  fun  of  your 
helpless,  poor  old  father!  Go  ahead!  pick  at  me 
and  contradict  me!  I  s'pose  when  I'm  dead  and 
in  my  grave  you'll  contradict  me  every  time  I 
speak." 

He  blew  off  steam  for  much  as  five  minutes. 
Didn't  even  remember  to  stop  and  get  his  cough 
going.  Hartley  turned  to  the  door.  I  could  see 
he  was  disappointed.      ' 

"  Very  well,"  he  says.  "  I'm  sorry.  I'm  sure 
she  is  just  the  girl  we  need.  Good  day,  Mr.  Spar- 
row." * 

I  cal'late  Washy  wa'n't  expecting  that.  He 
hitched  around  in  his  chair.  It  had  a  busted  cane 
seat,  the  chair  did,  and  he  had  to  roost  on  the  edge 
of  it  to  keep  from  falling  through. 

"  Er — er — just  a  minute,  Mister,"  he  says.  "  I 
want  you  to  understand  how  I  feel  about  this  thing. 
If  I  was  able  to  do  for  myself  'twould  be  different, 
but " 

Eureka  came  to  the  door  then,  wiping  her  arms 
on  her  apron. 

"  Why,  pa,"  she  says,  "  I  told  you  I  could  fix 
that." 

She  went  on  to  tell  how  she'd  get  up  early  every 
morning  and  cook  the  meals  afore  she  left,  and 


i92  MR.  PRATT 

how  Editha  would  be  there,  and  Lycurgus  would 
split  the  wood  and  do  the  chores,  and  how  she'd 
be  home  nights,  and  so  on.  She  had  planned  every- 
thing. I  liked  that  girl.  At  last  her  dad  give 
another  one  of  his  groans. 

"  All  right,"  says  he.  "  I  give  in.  /  ain't  going 
to  stand  in  the  way.  Hadn't  ought  to  expect 
nothing  different,  I  s'pose.  Work  and  fret  and 
slave  yourself  into  the  boneyard  bringing  up  chil- 
dren, and — and  educating  'em  and  all,  and  then 
off  they  go  and  leave  you.  Well,  I'm  resigned. 
Mr. — Mr. — What's-your-name,  she  can  go,  Eu- 
reka can — for  two  dollars  more  a  week." 

I  actually  gasped  out  loud.  The  cheek  of  him ! 
Why,  the  price  Van  had  offered  was  enough  to 
hire  three  girls.  And  now  this  shark  wanted 
more. 

Even  Martin  Hartley  seemed  to  be  set  back 
some.  But  he  was  game.  For  a  "mercenary"  chap 
he  was  the  most  liberal  piece  of  goods  on  the  shelf. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Sparrow,"  says  he.  "  That 
will  be  satisfactory.  Good  morning.  Good  morn- 
ing, Eureka.  I  presume  we  shall  see  you  to- 
morrow ?  " 

We  got  out  of  the  house  finally.  Washy  come 
'far  as  the  kitchen  to  see  us  off.    He  was  smiling 


EUREKA  193 

and  sweet  as  syrup  now.  When  I'd  got  to  the  walk 
Eureka  called  me  back. 

"  Mr.  Pratt,"  she  whispered,  "  you  tell  Mr. 
Hartley  that  of  course  I  sha'n't  take  the  extra  two 
dollars.  I'll  be  paid  too  much  as  'tis.  But  we 
won't  let  pa  know." 

Afore  I  could  answer  there  was  a  yell  from  the 
dining-room.  I  looked  in  and  there  was  Washy 
doubled  up  in  that  rocker  with  his  knees  under  his 
chin.  He'd  forgot  about  the  busted  cane  seat  and 
had  set  down  heavy  and  gone  through.  Editha 
was  trying  to  haul  him  out,  the  baby  was  crying, 
and  the  invalid  himself  was  turning  loose  the 
healthiest  collection  of  language  I'd  heard  for  a 
good  while.  Eureka  dove  to  the  rescue,  and  I 
come  away. 

Hartley  and  I  walked  on  a  spell  without  saying 
much.    Then  he  asks — 

"  Skipper,  do  you  suppose  that  fellow  really  has 
consumption?  " 

"Humph!"  says  I,  disgusted;  "consumption 
of  grub." 

He  thought  a  minute  longer. 

"  Poor  girl,"  says  he.  "  She  has  a  hard  time 
of  it.  We  must  see  if  we  can't  help  her  in  some 
way." 


CHAPTER   XII 
MISS   SPARROW'S   DIAGNOSIS 

EUREKA  was  on  hand  bright  and  early  the 
next  day  and  it  didn't  take  me  long  to  see 
that  she  was  worth  her  salt.  She  took  hold 
like  a  good  one  and  had  breakfast — and  a  mighty 
good  breakfast — ready  right  on  time.  I  don't 
know  when  I've  enjoyed  a  meal  like  I  done  that 
one,  sure  all  the  while  that  I  hadn't  got  to  turn  to 
and  wash  the  dishes  afterwards.  I  went  out  to  my 
gardening  feeling  like  a  sick  man  who  had  turned 
the  corner  and  was  on  the  road  to  getting  well 
again. 

And  from  then  on  the  Natural  Life  was  easy  for 
all  of  us,  for  quite  a  spell.  The  new  girl  was  a 
wonder,  so  far  as  doing  work  was  concerned. 
She'd  go  through  Marcellus's  old  home  like  a  hur- 
ricane, sweeping  and  dusting  and  singing.  She  was 
'most  always  singing — that  is,  when  she  wa'n't 
talking.  She  had  a  queer  programme  of  mus: 
too,  running  from  hymn  tunes  to  songs  she'd  heard 
the  boarders  use  over  at  the  hotel.     One  minute 

194 


MISS  SPARROW'S  DIAGNOSIS       195 

'twould  be,  "  Land  ahead!  Its  fruits  are  waving," 
and  the  next  meeting  somebody  "  in  the  shade  of 
the  old  apple  tree." 

One  day  I  come  in  and  she  was  piping  up  about 
how  everybody  to  her  house  worked  but  her  dad, 
or  words  to  that  effect. 

"  Hello !  "  says  I.  "  Did  you  make  that  up  out 
of  your  head?  " 

"  No,"  she  says.  "  It's  a  new  one  that  Lycurgus 
heard  over  to  the  Old  Home  House.  It  sounded 
so  as  if  'twas  made  for  our  family  that  it  kind  of 
stuck  in  Lys's  craw  and  he  come  home  and  told  it 
to  me. 

"  'Everybody  works  but  father, 
And  he  sets  'round  all  day.' 

"  I  tried  it  on  pa  last  night,"  she  went  on. 
11  Thought  it  might  jar  him  some,  but  it  didn't. 
He  said  'twas  funny.  Maybe  I'd  think  so,  too,  if 
I  was  him." 

How  Hartley  laughed  when  he  heard  her  sing- 
ing that.  She  tickled  the  Twins  'most  to  death, 
anyway.  She  was  as  sharp  as  a  whip  and  as  honest 
as  a  Quaker  parson.  When  her  first  pay  day  come 
she  set  her  squared-toed  boot  down  and  simply 
would  not  take  the  extry  two  dollars  wages.  She 
said  even  a  hog  knew  when  it  had  enough,  and  she 


196  MR.  PRATT 

wa'n't  a  hog.  Martin  told  me  he  was  going  to 
make  it  up  to  her  some  other  way.  The  Heav- 
enlies  was  mighty  interested  in  her;  but  not  more 
so  than  she  was  in  them. 

She  and  I  had  some  great  confabs  when  we  was 
alone  together.  She  asked  I  don't  know  how  many 
questions  about  Hartley  and  Van  Brunt ;  why  they 
was  living  this  way,  and  how  they  used  to  live  and 
all.  I  told  her  some  of  what  Lord  James  had  told 
me,  but  not  the  whole.  I  left  out  about  the  en- 
gaged business,  because  I  figgered  it  wa'n't  any  of 
her  affairs,  rightly  speaking.  Course  'twa'n't  none 
of  mine  neither,  but  somehow  I'd  got  to  feel  that 
I  was  a  sort  of  father  to  them  two  cracked  New 
Yorkers. 

"  Do  you  think  they're  crazy? "  she  asks. 
"  Nate  Scudder  says  they  act  as  if  they  was." 

"  You've  got  me,"  says  I.  "  I  ain't  made  up  my 
mind  yet." 

"  What  makes  'em  go  in  swimming  every  morn- 
ing? "  she  wanted  to  know. 

"  Why,  to  take  a  bath,  I  guess,"  says  I.  "Van 
Brunt  told  me  he  always  took  his  '  plunge '  when  he 
was  home." 

She  nodded,  quick  as  usual.  "  Um-hum,"  says 
she.    "  I've  read  about  it.    They  do  it  in  the  mar- 


MISS  SPARROWS  DIAGNOSIS       197 

ble  swimming  pool  in  the  gardens  of  the  ducal 
mansion.  And  there's  palm  trees  around  and 
fountains,  and  nightingales  singing,  and  music 
floating  on  the  balmy  perfumed  air.  And  when 
they've  got  all  scrubbed  up  there's  velvet-footed 
menials  to  fan  'em  and  give  'em  hasheesh  to 
smoke." 

"  Want  to  know !  "  I  says.  "  What's  hasheesh  ? 
Plug  cut  or  cigars?  " 

"  'Tain't  neither,"  said  she.  "  It's  some  kind  of 
stuff  that  makes  you  dream  about  beautiful  women 
and  things." 

"  Well,  they  don't  have  that  here,"  says  I. 
"  They  smoke  cigars  and  cigarettes.  And  I've 
smoked  both  of  'em  and  my  dreams  was  mainly 
about  how  much  work  I  had  to  do.  Nightingales 
are  birds,  ain't  they?  We're  pretty  shy  on  night- 
ingales over  here  to  Horsefoot,  but  maybe  the 
gulls  make  that  up.  Gulls  don't  sing,  no  more  than 
hens,  but  they  screech  enough  for  six.  Where  did 
you  get  all  this  stuff  from,  anyway?  " 

She  got  it  out  of  library  books  and  the  Home 
Comforter.  Seems  old  Miss  Paine,  over  in  the 
village,  lent  her  the  Comforter  every  week  as  fast 
as  she  got  through  with  it  herself.  Eureka  had 
never  been  to  the  city,  nor  anywheres  further  than 


198  MR.  PRATT 

Eastwich,  and  her  ideas  about  such  things  was  the 
queerest  mixed-up  mess  of  novel  trash  and  smart 
boarder's  lies  that  ever  was.  That,  and  what  she'd 
read  in  the  newspapers.  She  said  she  was  going  to 
the  city  some  day,  when  her  "  affinity  "  showed  up. 

"  What's  your  idea  of  a  first-class  affinity?  "  I 
asks,  looking  for  information.  I  didn't  know 
whether  'twas  an  animal  or  a  cart. 

"  Well,"  says  she,  "  he's  got  to  be  good-looking 
and  have  chests  and  chests  of  gold  and  jewelry. 
Further  than  that  I  ain't  made  up  my  mind  yet." 

She  said  when  she  did  go  she  would  sew  up  her 
money  in  the  waist  of  her  dress,  and  if  a  confi- 
dence man,  or  a  trust  or  a  policeman  tried  to  get 
it  away  from  her,  she  bet  he'd  have  trouble  on 
his  hands. 

"Policeman?"  says  I.  "What  would  he  be 
doing  trying  to  steal  your  money?  Policemen 
ain't  thieves." 

"They  ain't,  hey?"  she  says.  "City  police- 
men ain't?  I  guess  you  ain't  read  much  about 
'em." 

She  read  the  police  committee  trials  in  a  stack  of 
three  or  four-year-old  newspapers  and  they'd  fixed 
her,  far's  policemen  was  concerned. 

She  didn't  take  any  stock  in  Hartley's  being 


MISS  SPARROW'S  DIAGNOSIS       199 

down  our  way  for  his  health.  She  said  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  what  was  the  matter  with  him. 
"  What  ails  him/'  says  she,  "  is  Girl." 

"  Girl?  "  says  I. 

"Yup.    He's  in  love." 

I  set  back  and  looked  at  her.  Mind  you  I 
hadn't  said  one  word  about  Agnes  Page  or  the 
busted  engagement. 

"Get  out!"  I  says,  finally.  "What  did  he 
come  here  for  then?  There  ain't  a  female  native 
in  this  neighborhood  that  wouldn't  stop  a  clock — 
present  company  excepted,  of  course." 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference.  He's  in  love, 
and  he's  come  here  to  forget  his  troubles.  You 
never  read  *  False  but  Fair,  or  the  Bride  Bereft,' 
did  you?  I  thought  not.  Why,  East  Wellmouth 
is  Glory  alongside  of  some  places  that  young  men 
in  love  goes  to.  You  wait.  I'll  find  out  that  girl's 
name  some  of  these  days." 

She  said  that  Van  Brunt  wa'n't  in  love;  which 
struck  me  funny,  knowing  what  I  did. 

'Twa'n't  so  very  long  after  this  that  the  Heav- 
enlies  and  me  drove  to  South  Eastwich  to  visit 
the  Fresh  Air  School.  I  don't  think  Hartley 
would  have  gone  if  it  hadn't  been  that  his  name 
was  'specially  mentioned  in  the  note  from  Agnes. 


2oo  MR.  PRATT 

Even  then  Van  had  to  say  that  he  wouldn't  go 
unless  his  chum  did. 

We  left  Eureka  to  keep  house.  It  seemed  to 
suit  her  first  rate. 

You  wait  till  that  Scudder  man  comes,"  she 
says  to  me.  "  I  want  to  talk  to  him  about  the  milk 
he's  been  leaving." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  it?  "  I  asks.  "  Ain't 
he  giving  full  measure?  " 

"  Not  of  milk  he  ain't,"  she  says.  "  It's  too 
white  to  wash  with  and  too  blue  to  drink.  I'm 
going  to  tell  him  we've  got  a  pump  ourselves." 

The  Eastwich  school  was  a  big  old  farm  house 
with  considerable  land  around  it.  The  youngsters 
had  lots  of  room  to  run  and  carry  on.  All  hands 
was  at  the  door  to  meet  us,  Agnes  and  Miss  Tal- 
ford  and  Redny,  and  all  the  inmates.  The  Heav- 
enlies  had  stopped  in  the  village  and  got  a  big 
freezer  full  of  ice  cream — they  ordered  it  ahead — 
and,  well,  I  thought  we'd  got  a  warm  welcome,  but 
when  the  children  saw  that  freezer 

The  ladies  shook  hands  with  us  and  asked  us  in. 
Lord  James  was  there  in  all  his  glory.  You  could 
see  that  his  new  job  suited  him  down  to  his  shoes. 
No  hard  work,  no  sailing  or  such  like,  good  easy 
bosses,  and  plenty  of  picking  on  the  side,  I  judged. 


MISS  SPARROW'S  DIAGNOSIS       201 

I  turned  the  horse  and  carriage  over  to  him,  under 
protest,  and  we  went  into  the  house. 

"  First  of  all,  Ed,"  said  the  Page  girl,  turning 
to  Van  Brunt,  "  I  want  to  thank  you,  on  behalf  of 
the  children,  for  your  kindness  in  sending  them 
the  fruit.  It  is  delicious.  You  should  see  the  dears 
every  day  when  the  expressman  comes  with  the 
basket." 

Van  looked  puzzled.  "  Fruit?  "  he  says.  "  I 
don't  understand.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
fruit,  skipper?  " 

I  pleaded  not  guilty.  Hartley  didn't  seem  to 
hear.    He  was  busy  talking  with  Miss  Talford. 

II  Why!  "  says  Agnes.  "  Doesn't  it  come  from 
you  ?  We  have  been  receiving  the  loveliest  basket 
of  fruit  from  Boston  every  morning.  I  thought 
of  course  you  had  ordered  it  for  us.  Didn't  you, 
really?" 

Van  shook  his  head.  "  It  takes  a  man  with  the 
ordinary  amount  of  brains  and  thoughtfulness  to 
do  things  like  that,"  he  says.  "  I'm  miles  below 
the  average  in  such  things.  In  all  but  carelessness 
and  general  idiocy  I'm  a  bear  on  the  market. 
Here,  Martin!  Miss  Talford,  please  excuse  him 
for  a  moment,  will  you  ?  Martin,  are  you  respon- 
sible for  this  fruit?  " 


202  MR.  PRATT 

Hartley  was  so  sunburned  that  you  couldn't 
have  told  if  he  did  blush.  But  he  acted  nervous 
and  uneasy. 

"  It  was  nothing,"  he  said.  "  I  knew  the 
youngsters  liked  such  things,  and  the  stuff  you  get 
here  isn't  eatable.  Then  James  is  a  success,  Miss 
Talford,  you  say?  " 

But  he  didn't  get  off  quite  as  easy  as  that. 
Agnes  looked  up  surprised  and,  I  thought,  pleased. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hartley,"  she  said.  "  It  was 
kind  of  you,  and  very  thoughtful." 

Of  course  the  Talford  girl  thanked  him,  too. 
He  acted  a  good  deal  like  he  wished  he  hadn't 
come. 

But  I  guess  that  feeling  wore  off  after  a  while. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  Miss  Page  was  considerable 
pleasanter  to  him  than  I'd  seen  her  yet.  She 
talked  to  him  more  and  there  wa'n't  so  much  of 
that  chilly  °  hands-off  "  kind  of  manner  in  her 
voice.  Two  or  three  times  they  seemed  almost 
friendly,  as  you  might  say,  and  toward  the  end  of 
the  day  Hartley's  blueness,  that  was  always  with 
him  when  she  was  in  sight,  had  pretty  nigh  dis- 
appeared. He  seemed  quite  happy,  for  him — 
not  his  usual  careless,  don't-care  kind  of  jollity, 
either. 


MISS  SPARROWS  DIAGNOSIS       203 

One  thing  that  I  think  Agnes  noticed  was  the 
way  the  boy,  Redny,  stuck  to  him.  You  could  see 
that  the  little  chap's  idea  of  a  first-class  brick  was 
Martin  Hartley.  And  another  sure  thing  was  that 
Redny  was  the  Page  girl's  favorite.  She  was 
always  running  after  him  to  see  what  he  was 
doing,  that  he  didn't  get  hurt,  or  such  like.  One 
time  when  she'd  gone  on  this  kind  of  an  errand, 
and  the  Twins  and  Miss  Talford  and  me  was  left 
together,  I  spoke  up  and  says — 

"  That  small  fire  top  is  considerable  on  Miss 
Agnes's  mind,  ain't  he?  " 

Margaret  Talford  laughed.  "  He's  the  apple 
of  her  eye,"  says  she.  "  She  fairly  worships  him. 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why,  for  he's  the  worst 
mischief-maker  in  the  school.  But  Agnes's  sym- 
pathy seems  to  run  to  the  black  sheep.  Were  you 
a  black  sheep,  Mr.  Van  Brunt?  " 

Van  shook  his  head,  very  solemn.  "  I  was," 
says  he,  "  but  the  cleansing  influence  of  the  Natural 
Life  has  removed  the  upper  coating.  You  can  see 
that  she  doesn't  find  it  necessary  to  run  after  me. 
I  flatter  myself  that  I'm  rapidly  becoming — what 
is  it  that  our  new  cook  sings,  skipper?  Oh,  yes! 
1  Whiter  than  snow.'  Do  you  notice  my  alabaster 
purity,  Miss  Talford?  " 


204  MR.  PRATT 

11 1  hadn't  as  yet,"  she  says.  "  I'll  call  Agnes's 
attention  to  it." 

"  Pray  don't,"  says  he.  "  I'm  not  altogether 
certain  of  its  lasting  qualities.  Suppose  you  keep 
an  eye  on  me  instead,  until  I'm  sure  that  it  is 
enamel  and  not  whitewash." 

That  was  a  sample  of  the  talk  of  them  two. 
Just  nonsense,  but  they  seemed  to  enjoy  it  first 
rate. 

At  dinner  Van  entertained  the  crowd,  as  usual,, 
with  stories  about  the  Island  and  our  doings  on  it. 
He  told  how  the  Ark  upset,  and  'twas  wild  enough 
anyhow,  but  when  he'd  finished  embroidering  it 
'twas  a  regular  crazy  quilt.  Then  he  begun  with 
Eureka.  He  didn't  know  much  about  Washy,  ex- 
cept from  the  girl's  talk,  for  Hartley  nor  me  hadn't 
told  much  of  our  experience.  So  all  he  said  was 
that  the  old  man  was  sick.  Agnes  Page  seemed  a 
good  deal  interested. 

After  they'd  finished  eating  she  asked  me  con- 
siderable many  questions. 

"  Is  he  all  alone  there,  the  poor  sick  man?  "  she 
asked. 

11  No,  no!  "  says  I.  "  There's  children  enough 
to  help  out  a  whole  hospital.    He's  all  right." 

"  But  those  children  ought  not  to  have  to  stay  at 


MISS  SPARROWS  DIAGNOSIS       205 

home,"  says  she.  "  They  need  the  air  and  exercise 
and  schooling." 

"  They  don't  look  as  if  they  was  wasting  away," 
I  told  her.  "  Eureka's  as  good  as  a  ma  to  'em — > 
and  better  than  a  pa — her  pa,  anyway." 

She  seemed  to  be  thinking.  "  The  poor  fellow," 
she  says,  referring  to  Washy,  I  judged.  "  I  must 
drive  over  and  see  him." 

I  told  her  Hartley  had  promised  to  help  Eureka. 
She  seemed  real  pleased.  Her  face  kind  of  lit  up. 
She  walked  away  then  and  didn't  say  no  more. 

Lord  James  and  me  had  our  dinner  together.  I 
pumped  him  about  the  girls  and  how  he  liked 
'em. 

"  They're  all  right,"  he  says.  "  As  perfect 
ladies  and  as  generous  and  open  'anded  as  I  could 
wish." 

"  Which  do  you  like  best?  "  I  asked. 

11 1  'aven't  no  choice,"  he  says.  "  Miss  Page 
is  a  good  'ousekeeper.  Almost  too  good  if  I  may 
say  it.  A  lady  'adn't  ought  to  meddle  with  'ouse- 
hold  affairs,  not  when  she  has  a  competent  man  to 
attend  to  'em  for  'er.  Miss  Talford  now,  she's 
different.    I'd  like  to  work  for  'er  always." 

"  Pity  she  ain't  going  to  be  Mrs.  Van  Brunt 
instead  of  t'other,"  says  I.    "  Then  you'd  have  an 


2o6  MR.  PRATT 

easy  berth.  Don't  it  seem  to  you  that  Miss  Page 
and  your  boss  ain't  any  too  thick  for  engaged 
folks?" 

"  No,  indeed!  "  says  he,  scornful.  "  Lord  love 
you,  you'd  ought  to  see  some  married  folks  as  I've 
worked  for.  W'y  Lord  'Enry  and  'er  Ladyship, 
they " 

He  was  on  his  English  tack  now  and  you  never 
could  get  him  off  it  when  he  was  started  good.  I 
didn't  get  much  satisfaction  out  of  him. 

I  got  more  a  while  later,  though.  Just  afore 
we  started  for  home  Hartley  and  the  Page  girl 
come  walking  down  the  porch  together.  They 
wa'n't  saying  much  when  I  first  saw  'em,  but  all  at 
once  she  says — 

"  Mr.  Hartley,  there  is  one  thing  I  must  ask 
you.  You  paid  Dennis  the  five  dollar  prize  he  won 
at  the  race  that  day.  Did  you  collect  it  from  the 
judges?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  he  answers,  fidgety.  "  I 
think  probably  I  did.    I  don't  remember." 

"  I  thought  not,"  says  she.  "  Now  you  must 
permit  me  to  pay  it  to  you.  The  boy  is  under  my 
charge  and  I  shall  insist  upon  it." 

He  was  pretty  short  and  sharp,  I  thought.  "No, 
really,"  he  said,  "  I've  forgotten  the  affair  entirely. 


MISS  SPARROWS  DIAGNOSIS       207 

No  doubt  I've  been  paid  already.  It  was  nothing, 
of  course,  and  the  boy  was  plucky  and  I  took  a 
fancy  to  him." 

She  insisted,  but  he  wouldn't  give  in.  At  last 
she  says,  looking  hard  at  him — 

"I  think,"  she  says,  "that  your -simple  life  is 
doing  a  great  deal  for  you.  You  have  improved  in 
many  ways.  I  have  heard  things — good  things — 
about  you  that  surprised  me.    I'm  very  glad." 

He  didn't  answer.  Just  then  the  valet  brought 
the  carriage  up  to  the  door  and  'twas  time  to  say 
good  by. 

I  was  pretty  tickled  with  the  day's  work,  take  it 
altogether.  Eureka  got  after  me  soon  as  we  was 
back  to  the  Island,  and  she  asked  a  couple  of  ton 
of  questions.  She  wanted  to  know  all  about  the 
school  and  especially  about  the  Page  girl  and  her 
chum. 

"  You  ain't  told  me  all  you  know,"  says  she, 
finally.  "  Tell  the  rest  of  it.  What  relation  is  this 
Agnes  Page  to  Mr.  Hartley?  " 

I  said  she  wa'n't  no  relation.  At  last,  sort  of  in 
self-defence,  I  told  the  whole  yarn  about  the  en- 
gagement— Van's  engagement,  I  mean. 

She  bobbed  her  head.  "  I  thought  so,"  says 
she.    "  I  don't  care  if  Mr.  Van  Brunt  is  engaged 


2o8  MR.  PRATT 

to  the  Page  one.  He  ain't  in  love  with  her.  And 
Mr.  Hartley  is." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  says  I,  soon's 
I  could  get  my  breath. 

"  Just  what  I  said.  He's  in  love  with  Miss 
Page.    And  I'm  going  to  help  him  get  her." 

"Humph!"  says  I.  "You  be,  hey?  Well, 
how  about  poor  Van  ?  What  do  you  want  to  shove 
him  out  into  the  cold  for  ?  He  ain't  done  anything 
to  you,  has  he?  " 

She  shook  her  sunbonnet  and  looked  wise. 
"  That's  all  right,"  she  says.  "  I've  got  my  ideas 
about  him,  too.  Anyway  I'm  going  to  help  Mr. 
Hartley." 

I  thought  and  thought.  And  then,  without  ex- 
actly meaning  to,  I  spoke  my  thought  out  loud. 

"  I  believe  I'll  help  you  help  him,"  says  I. 

She  wa'n't  a  bit  surprised.  "Humph!"  she 
says.  "  That's  no  news.  You've  been  trying  to 
help  him  for  ever  so  long." 

What  do  you  think  of  that?  There  wa'n't  any- 
thing slow  or  dull  about  that  Sparrow  girl — not 
enough  to  fret  yourself  over,  there  wa'n't. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
THE   LAWN   FETE 

IT  was  August  now.  The  nice  weather  held  out 
right  along  and  one  day  on  Ozone  Island  was 
a  good  deal  like  the  next. 

And  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  little 
changes.  For  instance,  take  the  matter  of  reading. 
When  we  first  arrived  'twas  nothing  but  that 
Natural  Life  book;  the  Heavenly  Twins  was  at  it 
continuous,  and  such  a  thing  as  a  newspaper  or 
magazine  was  what  Van  Brunt  called  an  "  abomi- 
nation." I  couldn't  get  a  paper  even  to  kindle  fire 
with ;  had  to  use  poverty  grass  for  that.  But  now 
the  Natural  Life  sermon  laid  on  the  dining-room 
mantel  piece  most  of  the  time,  with  a  layer  of  dust 
on  it,  and  Scudder  fetched  the  Boston  and  New 
York  newspapers  every  day.  And  magazines  and 
books  begun  to  come  in  the  mail. 

I  remember  one  day  Hartley  set  reading  the 
New  York  Evening  Post,  that  part  of  it  he  called 
the  "  financial  page."    All  at  once  he  spoke. 

209 


2io  MR.  PRATT 

"  By  Jove !  Van,"  he  says.  "  Consolidated  Tea 
Lead  is  up  three  points  from  last  week's  quota- 
tions.   There  must  be  something  doing." 

Van  looked  at  him,  kind  of  sad  and  disap- 
pointed. 

"  Martin,"  says  he,  u  are  you  falling  from 
grace  ?  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan.  Give  me  that 
financial  sheet." 

Hartley  laughed  and  tossed  it  over. 

"  There !  "  says  his  chum,  crumpling  it  up  and 
shoving  it  into  his  pocket.  "  That  disturbing  influ- 
ence is  out  of  the  way.  Let  us  discuss  the  simple 
and  satisfying  subject  of  agriculture.  There  is  an 
article  on  '  The  Home  Garden '  in  this  month's 
number  of  The  Rural  Gentleman,  which  should  be 
instructive  to  our  friend  Mr.  Pratt,  plower  of  sea 
and  soil.  Skipper,  lend  me  your  ears.  I'll  return 
them  shortly." 

Then  he  commenced  to  read  that  magazine  piece 
out  loud  to  me,  very  solemn,  and  stopping  every 
once  in  a  while  to  chuck  in  some  ridiculous  advice 
on  his  own  account.  This  had  got  to  be  a  regular 
thing.  Every  bit  of  farm  news  I  had  to  hear.  The 
garden  was  Van's  pet  joke. 

"  What,"  says  he,  when  the  reading  was  done, 
"  is  the  latest  crop  bulletin,  Sol?  " 


THE  LAWN  FETE  in 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  report,"  says  I,  "  that 
from  the  present  outlook  we'll  have  two  cornstalks, 
one  tomatter  vine,  and  three  cucumber  plants 
really  in  sight  by  to-morrow  morning.  That  is,  if 
the  sand  don't  blow  in  and  cover  'em  up  in  the 
night." 

"  Good !  "  he  says.  "  I  move  that  the  report 
be  accepted.  Martin,  don't  let  me  see  you  wasting 
your  time  on  the  frivolity  of  the  Street,  when  there 
are  such  serious  matters  to  claim  our  attention." 

Which  was  all  right,  only  that  very  afternoon  I 
saw  him,  himself,  out  behind  the  barn,  reading 
that  Post  financial  page  and  looking  mighty  inter- 
ested. 

They  was  more  anxious  to  be  doing  things  than 
when  they  first  come.  Hartley's  health  was  im- 
proving all  the  time,  and  that  probably  accounted 
for  his  liveliness.  I  took  'em  sailing  'most  every 
day  and  they  wanted  to  fish  and  shoot  and  the  like 
of  that. 

Once  we  went  on  a  cruise  after  shore  birds.  I 
bagged  a  few,  but  the  Twins  couldn't  hit  a  flock  of 
balloons  with  a  cannon,  so  they  didn't  have  no  luck. 
But  a  little  later  Van  went  out  alone  with  Nate 
Scudder  and  I'll  be  blessed  if  he  didn't  come  back 
with  a  dozen  peep  and  ring-necks.    Then  the  way 


2i2  MR.  PRATT 

he  crowed  over  me  and  Martin  was  scandalous, 
till,  a  week  later,  Hartley  himself  went  gunning 
with  Nate  and  fetched  home  fifteen,  bigger  and 
better  than  his  chum's.  And  after  this,  of  course, 
'twas  nothing  but  what  a  great  hunter  Scudder 
was,  and  rubbing  it  into  me. 

The  hotel  boarders  and  the  town  folks  was 
mighty  interested  in  the  Ozone  Islanders  by  this 
time.  The  picnic  boats  from  the  Old  Home 
House  generally  sailed  close  by  our  point,  to  give 
the  passengers  a  chance  to  look  our  outfit  over. 
Sometimes  the  boats  stopped,  and  then  the  Twins 
would  take  an  observation  from  an  upstairs  win- 
dow, and,  if  they  liked  the  looks  of  the  crowd, 
would  come  down  and  keep  what  they  called 
"  open  house."  "  Open  house  "  always  meant 
more  work  for  Eureka  and  me.  Lucky  for  us, 
'twas  pretty  seldom  that  the  Heavenlies  liked  their 
callers'  looks  well  enough  to  open  up. 

The  Baptist  minister  and  his  wife  came  over  to 
call.  There  was  going  to  be  a  "  lawn  fete  and 
sale  "  at  the  church  pretty  soon,  and  the  idea  was 
to  get  the  Twins  to  "  donate  "  something.  Van 
Brunt  was  full  of  his  high  jinks  that  day,  and  he 
took  that  poor  parson  and  his  wife  in  tow. 

First  he  carted  'em  out  to  the  henyard.     He 


THE  LAWN  FETE  213 

paraded  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  coops,  point- 
ing out  the  scraggly  Plymouth  Rocks  as  if  they  was 
some  Jkind  of  freaks,  like  ostriches.  He  said  they 
ate  a  bag  of  corn  a  day  and  laid  one  egg  a  week,  so 
he  figgered  that  every  egg  was  worth  five  dollars 
or  so.  What  did  the  parson  think  of  a  donation  of 
half  a  dozen  of  them  eggs  ? 

"  Not  to  eat,  you  understand,"  says  Van;  "  but 
as  rarities,  as  curiosities." 

The  minister  was  a  young  feller,  not  long  out  of 
college,  and  pretty  straight-laced.  But  he  had 
some  fun  in  him. 

"  If  I  might  suggest,"  he  says,  "  I  think  one  of 
the  hens  themselves  would  be  more  acceptable  and 
profitable.  Among  our  summer  people  there  is  a 
great  demand  for  '  antiques.'  Now  one  of  those 
hens " 

That  tickled  Van.  He  told  Hartley  afterwards 
that  the  minister  was  a  trump.  He  donated  lib- 
eral— not  with  eggs  nor  poultry  neither — and 
promised  that  he  and  Hartley  would  attend  the 
sale. 

And  they  did.  And  so  did  Eureka  and  me. 
The  lawn  fete  was  held  in  the  meeting-house  front 
yard,  and  'twas  all  rigged  up  fine  with  flags  and 
tissue  paper  and  bunting.    There  was  a  grab  bag 


2i4  MR.  PRATT 

and  a  cake  table  and  a  fancy  goods  table,  and  I 
don't  know  what  all.  All  the  summer  folks  was 
there,  and  most  of  the  town  women  and  girls,  and 
the  prices  charged  for  things  would  have  been 
highway  robbery  if  it  hadn't  been  a  church  that 
was  charging  'em. 

The  Heavenlies  bought  and  bought  and  bought. 
They  bought  everything — the  foolishest  things. 
Van  bought  three  pair  of  embroidered  suspenders 
and  a  crocheted  tidy  and  a  pin  cushion,  and  Mar- 
tin got  a  worsted  Afghan  and  a  hand-painted  sofa 
pillow,  so  fresh  that  the  paint  come  off  on  your 
hands  when  you  touched  it.  And  'twa'n't  any  quiet 
colored  paint  neither.  And  when  you  rubbed  off 
one  layer  there  was  another  underneath.  Luretta 
Daniels'  daughter  had  painted  it;  she  was  taking 
lessons  and  her  ma  said  that  she'd  painted  that 
pillow  over  much  as  a  dozen  times,  because  the 
colors  wa'n't  "  blending  right "  or  the  subject 
didn't  suit  her.  'Twas  so  stiff  with  paint  on  top 
that  'twould  have  been  like  ramming  your  head 
into  a  fence  to  lay  on  it. 

We  stayed  till  most  everything  was  sold  but  a 
log  cabin  bed  quilt  that  the  Christian  paupers  at 
the  poorhouse  had  made.  Nobody  seemed  to  \?ant 
that,  although  they  was  gay  rags  enough  In  at  to 


THE  LAWN  F&TE  215 

build  a  rainbow.  The  minister's  wife  said  she  was 
so  sorry.  The  poor  things  at  the  almshouse  had 
worked  so  hard. 

11  You  wait  a  minute,"  says  Van.  "I'll  get  rid 
of  it." 

He  took  out  his  vest  pocket  memorandum  book 
and  tore  about  ten  pages  into  little  squares.  Then 
he  made  numbers  on  these  squares  with  a  pencil. 
Half  of  these  he  put  into  his  hat,  and,  the  next 
I  knew,  he  was  standing  on  a  chair,  waving  the 
bedquilt  with  one  hand  and  the  hat  with  t'other. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  shouts.  "  Here  is 
positively  the  last  chance  to  secure  this  magnificent 
— er — er — lambrykin,  made  by  the  deserving  poor 
to  cover  the  restless  rich.  Competition  has  been  so 
strong  that  no  one  person  has  been  able  to  buy  it. 
The  only  solution  would  be  a  syndicate,  and  the 
almshouse  is  opposed  to  trusts.  Therefore  I  am 
authorized  to  " — then  he  bent  down  and  whis- 
pered, "  Mr.  Morton,  kindly  give  me  whatever 
small  change  you  have  left." 

The  minister  looked  puzzled,  but  he  handed  up 
a  half  dollar.  Van  Brunt  reaches  into  the  hat  and 
takes  out  one  of  the  folded  slips  of  paper. 

14  Here  you  are,  sir,"  says  he.  "  Treasure  that 
as  you  would  your  life.     Now,  then,  ladies  and 


2i6  MR.  PRATT 

gentlemen,  this  is  a  raffle.  The  minister  starts  it. 
Tickets  are  anything  you  please,  provided  it's 
enough.    Come  early  and  avoid  the  rush." 

There  was  a  kind  of  gasp  from  all  the  church 
people.  The  members  of  the  sewing  circle  looked 
at  each  other  with  the  most  horrified  kind  of  faces. 
The  parson,  Mr.  Morton,  run  forward. 

"  Just  a  minute,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  if  you  please," 
he  sings  out. 

But  Van  waved  him  away.  The  summer  folks 
come  after  them  tickets  like  a  whirlwind,  laughing 
and  shouting  and  passing  up  dollar  bills.  'Twa'n't 
hardly  any  time  afore  the  hat  was  empty  and  the 
Twin's  jacket  pocket  was  full  of  money.  Then  he 
fills  up  the  hat  with  more  pieces  of  paper. 

"  These  are  duplicates  of  the  numbers  sold," 
says  he.  "  The  drawing  will  now  take  place. 
Here,  Bill!" 

He  grabs  a  little  shaver  by  the  coat  collar  and 
lifts  him  up  to  the  chair.  Old  lady  Patterson,  the 
deacon's  wife,  set  up  a  scream. 

"  Stop !  "  she  yells.    "  My  child  shall  not " 

"  It  takes  but  a  moment,  madam,"  says  Van, 
waving  to  her,  calm  and  easy.  "  Now,  Julius 
Caesar,  please  take  one  of  those  numbers  from  the 
hat." 


THE  LAWN  FETE  217 

The  boy  reddened  up  and  grinned  and  looked 
foolish,  but  he  stuck  a  freckled  paw  in  and  took  out 
a  piece  of  paper. 

"Number  fourteen,"  shouts  Van  Brunt.  "Num- 
ber fourteen  secures  the — the  tapestry.  Who's  the 
lucky  one?  " 

Everybody  unfolded  their  papers,  but  there 
didn't  seem  to  be  any  fourteen.  Hartley  had  three, 
but  he  wa'n't  in  it. 

"  Number  fourteen,"  Van  calls.  "  Who  is 
fourteen?  Mr.  Morton,  you  began  this.  Where 
is  your  ticket?  " 

The  minister  looked  dreadfully  troubled. 
"  Really,"  he  stammered,  "  I — I — it  was  a  mis- 
take.   I " 

"  jHere's  yours,  Mr.  Morton,"  says  a  little  girl. 
"  You  dropped  it  on  the  ground." 

The  parson  looked  pretty  sick.  He  reached  for 
it,  but  Van  got  it  first. 

"  Number  fourteen  it  is,"  he  says.  "  Our  es- 
teemed friend,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Morton,  secures 
the  prize.  That's  as  it  should  be.  Three  cheers 
for  Mr.  Morton !  " 

The  summer  folks  give  the  cheers,  but  the 
church  folks  looked  pretty  average  wild,  I  thought. 

I  forget  how  much  was  in  Van  Brunt's  pocket. 


2,8  MR.  PRATT 

That  bedqullt  fetched  in  enough  money  to  pretty 
nigh  buy  the  poorhouse  itself. 

The  Twins  felt  good.  They  figgered  that 
they'd  made  a  hit  at  that  "  lawn  fete." 

"  Great  success,  my  raffle  idea,  wasn't  it,  skip- 
per," says  Van  Brunt,  on  the  way  home. 

I  didn't  answer  right  off.    Eureka  spoke  up. 

"  Well,"  she  says,  "  it  sold  the  bedquilt,  but  I 
wouldn't  wonder  if  it  made  the  new  minister  lose 
his  job.  You  see,  'twas  gambling,  and  that  church 
is  dreadful  down  on  gambling.  Mrs.  Patterson 
told  me  that  she  should  have  her  husband  call  a 
parish  meeting  right  off.  I  guess  you  won't  be 
invited  to  no  more  sales  this  year." 

And  we  wa'n't.  Poor  Morton  had  an  awful  time 
explaining,  and  the  only  way  he  could  get  out  of  it 
was  to  lay  it  heavy  on  the  Twins.  He  had  to 
preach  a  sermon  giving  gambling  fits,  and  all 
around  town  'twas  nothing  but  how  dissipated  and 
wicked  the  Heavenlies  was.  We  wa'n't  fit  for 
decent  folks  to  associate  with. 

But  I  ain't  been  able  to  learn,  even  yet,  that  the 
bedquilt  money  was  returned  to  the  ticket  buyers. 

Van  got  a  long  letter  from  Agnes  Page  a  little 
later,  saying  that  she  had  heard  of  him  as  a  "  dis- 
turbing influence  "  and  that  she  was  shocked  and 


THE  LAWN  FETE  219 

grieved.  He  thought  'twas  a  great  joke  and  didn't 
seem  to  care  much.  Nate  Scudder  was  glad  of  the 
whole  business.  He  didn't  want  nobody  else  to  be 
milking  his  own  pet  cows. 

Me  and  Eureka  was  glad,  too,  in  a  way.  We 
judged  that  Van's  being  in  disgrace  with  his  girl 
would  help  Hartley's  side  along.  And  in  a  few 
days  another  idea  begun  to  develop  that,  when  I 
found  it  out,  seemed  to  me  likely  to  help  him  more. 

Eureka  told  me  that  she'd  seen  a  dress  pattern 
at  the  church  sale  that  she  wanted  awful.  I  asked 
her  why  she  didn't  buy  it  and  she  said  'twas  two 
dollars  and  a  half  and  she  couldn't  afford  it.  Hart- 
ley heard  her  say  it  and  he  loafed  out  into  the 
kitchen  and  begun  to  ask  questions,  pumping 
her,  sort  of  quiet,  to  find  out  what  she  done 
with  her  money.  After  she'd  gone  home  he  says 
to  me — 

"  Skipper,  that  girl  is  robbing  herself  to  support 
that  old  loafer,  her  father." 

11  That's  right,"  says  I.  "  It's  my  opinion  that 
she  ain't  never  told  him  that  she  ain't  getting  that 
extry  two  dollars  a  week.  I  guess  she  pays  every 
cent  into  the  house." 

"  It's  a  shame !  "  says  he.  "  Can't  we  make  the 
old  vagabond  earn  his  own  living?  " 


22o  MR.  PRATT. 

"  When  you  do,"  I  says,  "  I'll  believe  that 
black's  the  blonde  shade  of  white.  Making 
Washy  Sparrow  work  would  be  as  big  a  miracle 
as  the  loaves  and  fishes." 

He  thought  a  spell.  "  Well,  I  mean  to  look  into 
the  matter,"  he  says.  "  Sol,  I  want  you  to  find  out 
who  owns  that  apology  for  a  house  they  live  in. 
Don't  ask  Eureka.  We  must  keep  it  a  secret  from 
her  or  she'll  interfere.  And  we  may  as  well  not 
tell  Van,  either.  He's  so  careless  that  he  might 
give  it  away." 

"  All  right,"  says  I.  "  I'll  ask  Scudder.  He 
knows  'most  all  of  everybody's  business  and  Huldy 
Ann  knows  the  rest." 

So  when  Nate  come,  after  breakfast  next  morn- 
ing, I  asked  him. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  for?"  says  he, 
suspicious  as  usual. 

"  Oh,  nothing.    Just  curious,  that's  all." 

"They  ain't  going  to  move  out,  are  they?" 
He  seemed  mighty  interested. 

"  No,  no!  "  says  I.  "  Where'd  they  move  to? 
Think  they're  going  to  Washington  to  visit  the 
President  or  the  Diplomatic  Corpse  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  says,  "  you  needn't  get  mad.  I 
didn't  know  but  they  might  be  coming  over  here. 


THE  LAWN  FETE  221 

4 
I  don't  mind  telling  you.     Huldy  Ann,  my  wife> 

owns  the  place,  if  you  want  to  know." 

I  was  surprised.  He  was  a  regular  sand-flea  for 
bobbing  up  where  you  didn't  expect  him. 

"  She  does?  "  says  I.  "  Say,  Nate,  for  the  land 
sakes  how  much  more  of  this  country  belongs  to 
you  and  Huldy?  And  how  much  did  you  pay 
for  it?" 

He  went  on  with  a  long  rigmarole  about  a  mort- 
gage and  a  second  mortgage  and  "foreclosing  to 
protect  himself,"  and  so  on.  All  I  see  in  it  was 
more  proof  that  lambs  fooling  with  Nate  Scudder 
was  likely  to  lose,  not  only  wool,  but  hoofs,  hide 
and  tallow. 

When  I  told  Hartley  he  seemed  real  pleased. 

II  That  makes  it  easy,"  he  says.  "Scudder  will 
accommodate  me  by  doing  a  little  favor,  won't 
he?" 

"  Sure  thing !  "  says  I,  sarcastic.  "  Ain't  he 
been  accommodating  you  ever  since  you  struck 
town?" 

"  Yes,"  he  says,  "  he  has.  Scudder  is  a  generous 
chap." 

And  he  meant  it,  too !  Why  the  good  Lord  lets 
such  simple  innocents  as  him  and  his  chum  run 
around  loose  for  is — but  there !    No  doubt  He  has 


222  MR.  PRATT 

his  reasons.  And  what  would  become  of  the  sum- 
mer hotels  without  that  kind  ? 

Him  and  Nate  was  pretty  thick  for  the  next  few 
days.  Something  was  up,  though  as  yet  I  wa'n't  in 
the  secret.  Hartley  made  one  or  two  trips  to  the 
village  and  he  took  neither  me  nor  Van  with  him. 
He  asked  me  where  the  doctor  lived  and  a  lot  more 
questions. 

Van  Brunt,  too,  was  getting  pretty  confidential 
with  Nate.  I  caught  the  two  of  'em  off  alone  by 
the  barn  or  somewheres  quite  a  good  many  times. 
They  was  always  whispering  earnest,  and  when  I 
hove  in  sight  they'd  break  away  and  act  guilty. 
There  was  something  up  there,  too,  and  again 
I  wa'n't  in  with  the  elect.  I  begun  to  feel 
slighted. 

But  in  a  little  while  Hartley's  secret  come  out. 
One  day  Van  took  a  notion  to  go  down  to  Half 
Moon  Neck  gunning  after  peeps.  He  wanted 
Hartley  to  go  with  him,  but  Martin  said  no.  He 
said  he  didn't  feel  like  it,  somehow.  Why  didn't 
Van  put  it  off?  But  Van  wa'n't  the  put-off  kind. 
He  was  going  and  going  right  then.  He  wanted 
Scudder  to  sail  him  down,  but  Nate  was  too  busy, 
so  he  hired  Eureka's  brother,  Lycurgus.  The  two 
sailed  away  in  the  Dora  Bassett  to  be  gone  all 


THE  LAWN  FETE  223 

night.  I  wa'n't  invited.  The  Twins  had  no  use 
for  me  as  a  gunning  pilot. 

That  afternoon  late  Hartley  comes  over  from 
the  main,  rowed  by  Scudder.  The  pair  of  'em 
seemed  mighty  tickled  about  something. 

"Well,  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  Nate,  "we'll  see  you 
to-morrow  morning.    It'll  work  all  right;  you  see." 

"Will  he  work?"  laughs  Hartley.  "That's 
the  question." 

"  I  cal'late  he'll  make  the  bluff,"  snickers  Scud- 
der. "  I  don't  know  where  he'll  sleep  nights  if  he 
don't.  Land  of  love !  Did  you  see  his  face  when 
you  sprung  it  on  him  ?    Haw !  haw !  " 

When  we  got  to  the  house  Hartley  calls  in 
Eureka. 

"  You're  going  to  stay  here  to-night,"  he  says  to 
her.  "  Mr.  Pratt  and  I  have  an  errand  ashore 
early  in  the  morning  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  will  be 
back  soon  after,  and  hungry,  I  imagine.  So  you 
must  be  ready  with  his  breakfast.  It's  all  right. 
Your  father  understands." 

Eureka  was  some  surprised,  but  she  said  she'd 
stay. 

All  through  supper  Hartley  was  laughing  to 
himself.  Just  afore  bedtime  he  calls  me  out  on  the 
porch. 


224  MR.  PRATT 

"  Sol,"  he  says,  "  what  would  surprise  you  most 
in  this  world?  " 

"  To  see  Mr.  Van  Brunt  shoot  at  a  bird  and  hit 
it,"  says  I.  Leaving  me  out  of  all  these  gunning 
trips  jarred  my  pride  considerable. 

"  Humph!  "  he  says.  "  He  shot  a  dozen  the 
other  day." 

"  Yes,  but  I  didn't  see  him  shoot  'em." 

He  laughed.  "  You  countrymen  are  jealous 
creatures,"  he  says.  "  Well,  this  is  more  surpris- 
ing than  that.  What  would  you  say  if  Mr.  Wash- 
ington Sparrow  consented  to  go  to  work?  " 

I  looked  at  him.  "  I  wouldn't  say  nothing,"  I 
says.  "  I'd  send  for  a  straight-jacket.  What  are 
you  talking  about  ?  " 

He  turned  around  in  his  chair. 

II  You  remember  I  told  you  I  was  going  to  try 
to  make  him?  "  he  says.  "  Well,  I  think  I've  suc- 
ceeded. Come  with  me  to-morrow  morning  and 
see.  I'm  doing  it  for  the  sake  of  that  plucky 
daughter  of  his,  and  it  has  required  some  engi- 
neering and  diplomacy.  But  I  think  I  win.  Don't 
mention  a  word  to  Eureka,  though." 

I  promised  to  keep  mum.  I  tried  to  get  him  to 
tell  me  more,  but  he  wouldn't.  "  Wait  and  see  " 
was  all  I  could  get  out  of  him. 


THE  LAWN  FETE  225 

I  turned  in  a  kind  of  trance,  as  you  might  say. 
Washy  Sparrow  work !  Well,  I'd  have  to  see  him 
doing  it  with  my  own  eyes.  I  wouldn't  believe 
even  a  tintype  of  the  performance  if  'twas  took  by 
Saint  Peter. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS" 

WE  left  the  Island  early  next  day.  I 
rowed  to  the  main  and  anchored  the 
skiff.  Then  me  and  Hartley  walked 
up  to  the  Neck  road.  I  didn't  ask  no  questions. 
He  could  speak  first  or  be  still.  I'd  had  my  dose. 
Nobody  can  call  me  nosey. 

He  did  speak  first.  "  Well,  skipper?  "  he  says, 
finally. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  I. 
"Why  don't  you  ask  me  what  my  scheme  is? 
Aren't  you  curious?  " 

"  Scheme?  "  says  I.  "  Scheme?  I  ain't  much 
of  a  schemer,  myself.  Nice  weather  we're  having, 
ain't  it." 

He  laughed.  "  Sol,"  says  he.  "  I  like  you. 
You're  the  right  sort — you  and  Scudder." 

Drat  him  I  Why  did  he  want  to  spoil  it  all  by 
that  last? 

226 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        227 

"  Virtue  must  be  its  own  reward,  then,  far's 
I'm  concerned,"  I  says,  pretty  average  dry.  "  I 
don't  seem  to  be  getting  no  other  kind.  Pity  me 
and  Nate  couldn't  divide  the  substantiate  more 
equal." 

His  face  clouded  right  up.  "  Money !  "  he 
says,  disgusted,  kicking  a  stick  out  of  his  way. 
"  Don't  you  for  one  minute  believe  that  money 
means  happiness." 

"  All  right,"  I  says.  "  I  ain't  contradicting  you. 
You've  had  more  experience  with  it  than  I  have. 
Sometimes  it  seems  as  if  I  could  manage  to  bear 
up  under  a  couple  of  thousand  or  so  without  shed- 
ding more'n  a  bucket  of  tears;  but  I'm  open  to 
conviction — like  the  feller  that  said  he  stole  the 
horse,  but  they'd  got  to  show  proof  enough  to 
satisfy  him." 

'Twas  some  minutes  afore  he  come  out  of  his 
blue  fit.    Then  he  says — 

"  The  scheme  is  this:  I  determined  to  see  what 
could  be  done  to  make  things  easier  for  the  Spar- 
row girl.  The  only  solution  seemed  to  be  the  get- 
ting rid  of  papa." 

"  If  you'd  waited  long  enough,"  I  says;  "  maybe 
his  consumptive  dyspepsy  would  have  saved  you 
the  trouble." 


228  MR.  PRATT 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  faith,"  says  he. 

"  You  have.  The  same  kind.  Washy's  is  dif- 
ferent. His  doctrine  is  faith  without  work.  Go 
on." 

"  So  I  tried  to  think  of  some  way  to  bring  it 
about.  When  you  told  me  that  Scudder  owned 
the  Sparrow  place  I  saw  my  chance.  Scudder  and 
I  consulted.  He  was  willing  to  lose  his  tenants 
provided  he  didn't  lose  the  rent.  The  rent  was 
nothing;  I  promised  to  make  that  good  until  our 
season  here  was  over  and  Eureka  could  return 
home.  But  I  made  it  clear  that  when  she  did  re- 
turn home  her  father  mustn't  return  with  her.  He 
must  be  provided  for  somewhere  else.  Then  we 
saw  the  doctor  and  Morton,  the  minister.  Morton 
was  somewhat  prejudiced,  owing  to  Van's  raffle, 
but  he's  a  pretty  decent  fellow  and  seemed  to  think 
what  he  called  a  good  action  on  my  part  might 
offset  even  a  bedquilt  gamble.  So  between  us  we 
fixed  it  up. 

"  Old  Sparrow  is  offered  a  job  as  general  shov- 
eller and  brick  carrier  over  there  at  the  hotel. 
They're  building  a  new  addition,  you  know. 
Brown,  the  manager,  said  he'd  take  him  on,  as  a 
favor  to  me.  He  has  been  offered  the  place.  If 
he  doesn't  accept,  why,  out  he  goes.    Scudder  has 


"THE  BEST.  LAID  PLANS"        229 

told  him  he  can't  stay  in  his  house  any  longer.  You 
should  have  seen  him  when  we  broke  the  news  last 
night." 

"  S'pose  he  don't  accept,"  I  asks.  "  What  about 
the  children?  " 

"  They'll  be  looked  out  for.  Lycurgus  will 
board  at  Scudder's.  Eureka  will  stay  with  us. 
Editha  and  the  baby  will  be  roomed  and  fed  by  the 
minister.  The  others  are  to  have  good  boarding 
places  and  go  to  school.  Every  one  is  willing  to 
help  the  family,  but  they  won't  keep  the  old  rascal. 
It  has  worked  out  beautifully." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,"  says  I.  "  It's  all  right, 
as  a  plan.  But  Eureka  won't  let  her  dad  suffer, 
even  though  she  knows  there  ain't  nothing  really 
the  matter  with  him.  And  who's  going  to  pay  all 
the  young  ones'  board?     She  can't." 

"  I'll  attend  to  that,"  says  he,  impatient.  "  It 
isn't  enough  to  signify.  And  it  will  be  all  settled 
before  Eureka  knows  it.  The  old  man  will  take 
the  job." 

"  I'll  bet  a  cooky  he  don't,"  I  says.  "  But  it'll 
make  him  scratch  gravel  one  way  or  'nether.  Bully 
for  you,  Mr.  Hartley !  I'm  glad  I'm  along  to  see 
the  fun." 

"  The  fun  was  last  night,"  says  he.     "  Cas&ar! 


23o  MR.  PRATT 

how  he  did  cough  and  groan.    And  then  swear! 
But  here's  the  rest  of  the  crowd." 

They  was  waiting  for  us  on  the  corner.  Dr. 
Penrose  was  there,  and  Mr.  Morton,  and  Cap'n 
Benijah  Poundberry,  chairmen  of  selectmen,  and 
Scudder,  and  Peter  T.  Brown,  manager  of  the  Old 
Home  House.  They  was  all  laughing,  and  think- 
ing the  whole  thing  a  big  joke. 

"  Mr.  Hartley,"  says  the  doctor,  "  I  wish  you 
were  to  be  a  permanent  resident.  There  are  a  few 
more  cases  of  this  kind  I'd  like  to  have  you  tackle." 

We  walked  on  together  the  rest  of  the  way, 
laughing  and  talking.  Nobody  took  the  business 
serious  at  all.  They  all  thought  Washy  would  go 
to  work  when  he  found  'twas  either  that  or  get  out 
and  hustle  for  a  place  to  put  his  head  in. 

We  marched  into  the  Sparrow  yard  like  a 
Fourth  of  July  parade.  Hartley  knocked  at  the 
kitchen  door.    Editha  opened  it. 

"  Is  your  father  in?  "  asked  the  Twin. 

11  Yes,  sir,"  says  Editha.  "  He's  in.  I  s'pose 
you'd  like  to  see  him,  wouldn't  you?  Pa,  here's 
Mr.  Hartley." 

There  was  a  groan  from  the  dining-room.  Then 
some  coughs,  like  a  string  of  small  earthquakes. 
Finally  a  dreadful  weak  voice  orders  us  to  step 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        231 

right  in.    The  rest  of  the  crowd  went  on  ahead.    I 
stopped  for  a  jiffy  to  speak  to  Editha. 

"  Where's  the  rest  of  the  children?  "  I  asks. 

"  I  sent  'em  over  to  the  grocery  store  on  an 
errand,"  she  says.  "  I  thought  you'd  be  along 
pretty  soon.    They  took  the  baby  with  'em." 

"  How's  your  dad  been  since  he  heard  the 
news?  "  says  I. 

"  Oh,  he  was  going  on  terrible  last  night.  Had 
nerve  spells  and  fired  the  chairs  around  and  car- 
ried on  so  we  was  all  scared.  But  he  went  out 
about  nine  o'clock  with  a  letter  he'd  wrote,  and 
this  morning  he  seems  better.  Say,  Mr.  Pratt," 
she  whispers,  eager,  "  is  it  true  that  me  and  Dewey 
are  going  to  live  with  the  minister's  folks  ?  " 

"  Maybe  so,"  says  I.     "Why?" 

"  Oh!  I  hope  so,"  she  says.  "  Then  I  could  go 
to  school,  and  pa  wouldn't  be  'round  to  jaw  us, 
and  Reky  'd  have  a  little  rest.  She  does  need  it  so." 

Think  of  a  twelve-year-old  young  one  talking 
like  that.  But  the  children  was  all  grown-ups  in 
that  family. 

I  went  into  the  dining-room.  The  delegation 
was  gathered  on  one  side  of  the  table,  and  Washy 
was  crumpled  up  in  his  rocker  on  the  other.  He 
looked  some  scared. 


232  MR.  PRATT. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Sparrow,"  Hartley  was  beginning 
when  I  come  in,  "  have  you  made  up  your  mind 
about  the  position  which  this  gentleman  has  been 
kind  enough  to  offer  you?  "  He  pointed  to  Brown 
as  he  said  it. 

"Hey?"  asks  the  invalid,  feeble. 

Martin  said  it  all  over  again ;  he  had  to  stop  in 
the  middle  so  's  to  give  the  candidate  for  the  job 
a  chance  to  cough  and  turn  loose  a  few  groans. 

And  all  that  Washy  said  when  the  Twin  had 
finished  was  another  "  Hey?  " 

Hartley  begun  to  lose  patience.  "  You  heard 
what  I  said,"  he  snaps,  sharp.  "  Have  you  made 
up  your  mind?  " 

"  Don't  get  mad,  Mr.  Hartley,"  pleads  the  suf- 
ferer, sad  and  earnest.  u  Please  don't.  My 
nerves  is  dreadful  weak  this  morning  and  I  ain't 
able  to  stand  it.  I've  had  coughing  spells  ever 
since  I  got  out  of  bed.  Well,  I  won't  have  to 
linger  here  much  longer.  Pretty  soon  I'll  be  laid 
away,  and " 

"Have  you  made  up  your  mind?"  interrupts 
Martin.  "  Answer  quick.  The  time  of  these  gen- 
tlemen is  valuable." 

"  Don't,  Mr.  Hartley.  Please  don't.  How  can 
you  cruelize  a  poor  feller  this  way?     Don't  you 


"  THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS  "        233 

know  that  any  kind  of  stir  and  rumpus  is  the  worst 
thing  for  mc?    Any  doctor  '11  tell  you  that " 

"  Bosh!  "  'Twas  Doctor  Penrose  that  said  it, 
and  he  stepped  forward.    "  Bosh!  "  says  he  again. 

11  What's  that?  Why,  if  it  ain't  my  old  friend 
the  doctor!  I  never  noticed  you  was  there.  I'm 
awful  glad  to  see  you,  Doc.  Seems  just  like  old 
times.  You'll  excuse  my  not  getting  up,  won't 
you?  I've  Wasted  away  so  since  you  was  here 
that " 

"  Bosh!  "  says  the  doctor  again.  "  You're  fat- 
ter than  ever.  There's  nothing  in  the  world  the 
matter  with  you  but  pure  downright  dog  laziness. 
Don't  cough  on  my  account.  I  don't  care  to 
hear  it." 

Washy  looked  at  him  as  reproachful  and  goody- 
goody  as  a  saint. 

"  I  forgive  you  for  them  words,  doctor,"  says 
he.  "  I  realize  I  ain't  been  able  to  pay  my  bill  to 
you,  and  so  I  can  make  allowances." 

11  Allowances !  Why,  you  confounded  impu- 
dent loafer!     I've  a  good  mind  to " 

He  was  purple  in  the  face.  Peter  Brown 
caught  his  arm. 

"Ain't  this  a  little  off  the  subject?"  he  says. 
"  Look  here,  Sparrow.     We  need  a  good  husky 


234  MR.  PRATT 

man  about  your  size  at  the  hotel.  We'll  pay  him 
ten  dollars  a  week.  I've  offered  you  the  job.  Are 
you  going  to  take  it?  " 

11  There  ain't  nothing  in  the  world  I  should  like 
better,  Mr.  Brown.     I  like  to  work,  and " 

"  All  right,  then.  Get  on  your  hat  and  come 
along." 

"  Come  along !  Why,  how  you  talk !  If  I  was 
to  stir  out  of  this  house  'twould " 

'Twas  Scudder's  turn.  "  You'll  have  to  stir 
mighty  quick,"  says  he.  "  I  won't  have  no  do- 
nothing  tramps  in  a  house  of  mine.  Either  take 
this  chance  or  out  you  go  next  Saturday,  bag  and 
baggage." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Scudder !  Why,  Nate!  How  can 
you  talk  so !  Just  for  a  little  matter  of  rent.  You 
don't  need  it.  Ain't  you  been  telling  me  that  you 
had  a  couple  of  soft  rich  folks  over  to  Horsefoot 
Bar  that  was  paying  you  a  good  living  and  more, 
too,  all  by  themselves.  Don't  you  remember  you 
said " 

"  Shut  up !  "  'Twas  Scudder  who  got  purple 
now.  It  looked  to  me  like  the  invalid  was  having 
all  the  fun.  He  seemed  to  be  expecting  something 
and  playing  for  time.  I  guess  Hartley  thought  so 
too,  for  he  says : 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        235 

"  That's  enough  of  this.  It's  plain  that  he 
doesn't  intend  to  accept.  Mr.  Scudder,  you  have 
given  him  formal  notice.     Come  on." 

Then  Washy  broke  down.  He  sniffed  and  half 
cried  and  wanted  to  know  things.  The  work 
would  kill  him  in  a  day  or  so,  of  course,  but  he 
didn't  mind  that.  When  he  thought  of  his  poor 
fatherless  children 

11  The  children  will  be  provided  for,"  says  Mar- 
tin. "  I  told  you  that.  Mr.  Morton  will  care  for 
Editha  and  the  baby." 

"Mr.  Morton?  Morton?  Seems  to  me  I've 
heard  that  name  afore.  Ain't  he  the  gambler? 
The  one  that  come  near  being  run  out  of  town  for 
stealing  a  bedquilt  from  the  poorhouse,  or  some- 
thing like  that  ?  Is  he  the  man  to  trust  with  inno- 
cent little  children?  " 

There  it  was  again.  The  minister  was  red  as  a 
beet  and  stammering  about  "  impertinence  "  and 
"  blackguardism."  I  thought  he'd  lick  that  con- 
sumptive right  then  and  there.  It  took  another 
five  minutes  to  calm  him  down.  And  so  far  we 
hadn't  gained  an  inch. 

And  just  then  a  horse  and  buggy  come  rattling 
into  the  yard.  The  horse  was  all  over  lather,  like 
he'd  been  drove  hard,  and  the  buggy  was  white 


236  MR.  PRATT 

with  dust.  Everybody  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Sparrow  looked  and  his  face  brightened  up.  I 
cal'late  'twas  exactly  what  he  had  been  hoping  and 
waiting  for.  Martin  Hartley  looked  and  his  eyes 
and  mouth  opened.     So  did  mine. 

'Twas  Lord  James  that  was  driving  the  buggy, 
and  there  was  a  young  woman  with  him.  The 
young  woman  was  Agnes  Page. 

Agnes  jumped  from  the  step  and  run  to  the 
kitchen  door.  In  spite  of  the  dust  and  her  clothes 
being  rumpled  and  her  hat  shook  over  to  one  side 
she  was  as  pretty  as  a  picture.  The  next  minute 
she  was  in  the  room,  staring  solemn  at  all  us  men. 
And  her  eyes  seemed  to  look  right  through  a  feller. 

"  Why,  Agnes — Miss  Page !  "  exclaimed  Hart- 
ley.   Why  are  you  here?    What's  the  matter?  " 

She  didn't  answer  him.  Just  turned  to  Washy. 
And  says  she — 

"  Am  I  in  time,  Mr.  Sparrow  ?  I  didn't  get 
your  letter  until  nearly  nine,  because  James  was 
delayed  at  the  office.  But  I  hurried  right  over.  I 
was  so  afraid  I  would  be  too  late.    Am  I  ?  " 

The  invalid  looked  at  her.  And,  if  he'd  been 
the  picture  of  misery  afore,  he  was  a  whole  pano- 
rama of  it  now.  He  coughed  afore  he  answered. 
She  shivered,  kind  of,  at  that  cough,  and  I  don't 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        237 

wonder.  If  ever  there  was  a  graveyard  quick-step, 
Washy  Sparrow's  cough  was  it. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  says  he.  "  I  guess  not,  but  I 
don't  know.  The  shock  of  it,  and — and  all,  has 
pretty  nigh  finished  me  up,  I'm  afraid.  I  don't 
cal'late  I'll  pull  through,  but  I  may.  Let's  hope 
for  the  best,  anyhow.  But,  ma'am,  if  you'd  heard 
the  things  that's  been  said  to  me !  " 

She  whirled  around  on  us  and  her  eyes  flashed 
chain  lightning. 

"  Aren't  you  ashamed?  "  she  says.  "  Great 
strong  men,  every  one  of  you,  and  all  banded  to- 
gether to  torture  a  poor  helpless  invalid." 

A  feller's  conscience  is  the  biggest  fool  part  of 
his  insides.  Now  I  knew  that  what  we'd  been 
doing  was  exactly  the  right  thing  to  do,  but  I  felt 
as  mean  and  small  as  if  I'd  been  caught  stealing 
eggs.  I  kind  of  shrivelled  up,  as  you  might  say, 
and  tried  to  scrouge  back  into  the  corner.  Maybe 
I'd  have  got  there,  only  the  rest  of  the  crowd  was 
trying  to  do  the  same  thing. 

All  but  Hartley.  He  was  a  lot  set  back,  but  he 
spoke  up  prompt. 

"Miss  Page,"  said  he,  "  I'm  sure  you  don't 
understand.    We " 

She  was  back  at  him  afore  he'd  begun. 


2?8  MR.  PRATT 

"  I  think  that  is  exactly  what  I  do — under- 
stand," she  says.  "  At  any  rate,  I  mean  to  under- 
stand thoroughly.  Mr.  Sparrow,  what  have  they 
said  to  you  ?  " 

Washy  cleared  his  throat.  When  he  answered 
'twas  in  a  sort  of  beg-pardon  voice.  You  could 
see  how  he  hated  to  speak  ill  of  anybody.  He 
wouldn't  hurt  nobody's  feelings  for  the  world. 
Bless  him !  he  was  a  cute  shyster,  if  ever  there  was 
one. 

"  It's  like  I  wrote  you,  ma'am,"  says  he. 
"  They've  offered  me  a  place  to  go  to  work,  and 
I've  been  awful  tempted  to  take  it.  I  want  to  take 
it.  My  land!  how  I  want  to!  But  I  don't  feel 
able  to  dig  cellars.  I  wouldn't  last  at  it  more'n  a 
few  days  and  then  what  would  become  of  my  fath- 
erless children  with  nobody  to  look  after  'em? 
And  because  I  think  of  these  things  and  can't  bring 
myself  to — to — passing  away  from  'em  so  soon, 
I'm  going  to  be  put  out  of  my  house  and  home. 

My  little  home,  that  I've  thought  so  much  of " 

He  had  to  stop  and  wipe  his  eyes.  Agnes'  eyes 
were  wet,  too,  and  her  feet  patted  the  floor.  "  But 
why?"  says  she.     "Why?" 

"  I  don't  know — that  is,  for  sure,  ma'am.  You 
see  I  ain't  been  able  to  earn  nothing  for  some  time. 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        239 

Eureka,  poor  girl,  she's  had  to  look  out  for  us  all. 
And  I  b'lieve  the  doctor  there,  his  bill  ain't  been 
all  paid ;  and  we  owe  Mr.  Scudder  some  rent ;  and 
I  s'pose  likely  Eureka  would  be  able  to  give  more 
of  her  time  to  the  Island  work,  and  maybe  for  less 
pay,  if " 

"  I  see,"  says  Miss  Page,  scornful.  "  I  see. 
And  so,  for  a  few  dollars  you  are  to  be  turned  out 
of  your  home.  You,  a  poor  sick  man !  Oh !  I  can 
hardly  believe  there  are  such  people  in  the  world. 
And  yet,  I  have  had  some  experience." 

She  flashed  a  look  at  Martin  as  she  said  it.  He 
turned  white  under  his  sunburn. 

11  Miss  Page,"  he  said,  "  you  do  not  understand. 
I  must  insist  that  you  hear  our  reasons  for  this  pro- 
ceeding." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  she  says,  cold  as  ice.  "  I 
have  heard  enough." 

The  minister  plucked  up  spunk  to  speak.  But 
she  snapped  him  up  short  as  pie  crust.  Then  / 
tried  it — and  got  my  medicine. 

"  Mr.  Sparrow,"  says  she,  "  iet  them  do  their 
worst.  The  children  shall  come  to  my  school. 
As  for  you,  I  mean  to — "  Then  she  turns  to 
me. 

"Does  Mr.  Van  Brunt  know  of  this?"  she 


340  MR.  PRATT 

asks.    Course  I  couldn't  say  nothing  but  I  believed 
he  didn't. 

11  Thank  goodness!  "  she  says.  And  just  then 
who  should  walk  in  but  Van  himself. 

"Hello!"  says  he,  surprised.  "Eureka  told 
me  you  were  at  the  village,  Martin,  so  Lycurgus 
rowed  me  across.  One  of  the  children  said  you 
were  here.  What  is  this,  a  surprise  party?  And 
Agnes,  too!  Am  I  too  late  for  the  refreshments?" 

He  smiled,  but  nobody  else  did. 

"  Edward,"  says  the  Page  girl,  "  will  you  do  a 
great  favor  for  me?  " 

"  Yours  to  command,  of  course,"  he  answers, 
puzzled. 

"  Will  you  find  a  boarding  place  for  Mr.  Spar- 
row?" 

"Who?  Eureka's  father?  Why,  certainly. 
What's  the  trouble?  Is  it  time  for  the  Sparrows 
to  nest  again?  He  can  come  over  to  the  Island 
with  us.  There's  plenty  of  room.  Hey,  Martin?  " 

"  Never  mind  your  friend,  please,"  says  Miss 
Page.  "If  he  comes  will  you  protect  him  and 
treat  him  kindly?  Thank  you.  Then  that  is  set- 
tled. Gentlemen,  I  believe  there  is  no  necessity 
for  your  further  inconveniencing  yourselves.  Your 
several  bills  will  be  paid." 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        241 

I  looked  at  the  doctor  and  he  looked  at  Pound- 
berry.  The  minister  and  Brown  and  Scudder 
looked  at  each  other.  Maybe  it  seems  queer  that 
we  didn't  speak  up  and  make  her  hear  our  side — 
the  right  side.  It  does  seem  strange  now,  I'm  free 
to  say,  but,  as  for  me,  I  couldn't  have  faced  her 
then  no  more  than  the  boy  with  the  jam  'round  his 
mouth  could  face  his  ma. 

Hartley  was  the  only  plucky  one.  He  says, 
swallowing  once,  as  if  he  was  gulping  down  his 
pride,  "  Miss  Page,"  says  he,  "  you  are  treating 
me  most  unfair.  To  judge  without  a  hearing  is 
not " 

She  held  up  her  hand.  There  was  a  kid  glove 
on  it,  and  even  then  I  noticed  how  well  that  glove 
fitted. 

"  Mr.  Pratt,"  she  says  to  me,  "  I  want  to  ask 
you  one  question.  Who  is  responsible  for  this? 
Whose  idea  was  it?  " 

I  hemmed  and  hawed.  The  other  fellers  might 
not  have  meant  to  do  it,  but  somehow  their  eyes 
all  swung  round  to  Hartley. 

11 1  see,"  she  says.  "  I  thought  as  much.  There 
is  a  proverb,  I  believe,  concerning  what  is  bred  in 
the  bone.  Thank  heaven,  to  me  there  are  some 
things  in  this  world  which  outweigh  my  personal 


243  MR.  PRATT 

convenience  and — money.     You  needn't  answer, 
Mr.  Pratt.     He  pays  your  salary,  I  believe." 

My,  but  she  said  it  bitter  and  scornful.  Hart- 
ley was  white  afore,  but  now  he  was  like  chalk. 
He  bowed  to  her,  stuck  his  chin  into  the  air  and 
marched  out  of  that  house  as  proud  and  chilly  as 
a  walking  icicle.  The  rest  of  us,  all  bat  Van  and 
Agnes,  trailed  along  astern,  like  a  parcel  of  kicked 
dogs. 

Washy  sung  out  to  us  as  we  went.  "  Good  day, 
gentlemen,"  he  says;  "  I  hope  you'll  come  and  see 
me  sometimes  while  I'm  over  to  Horsefoot.  I 
forg'we  you  free  and  clear.  I  haven't  no  doubt 
you  meant  for  the  best." 

The  doctor  and  the  rest  was  brave  enough  when 
we  was  out  of  Agnes  Page's  sight  and  hearing. 
They  was  talking  big  about  what  they'd  do  to 
Sparrow  when  they  had  a  chance.  But  I  noticed 
none  of  'em  said  much  to  Hartley.  He  marched 
ahead,  stiff  and  white  and  glum.  Peter  Brown's 
last  word  to  me  was  this : 

"  Pratt,"  says  he,  "  if  you  see  a  hole  in  the  sand 
anywheres  'tween  here  and  the  beach,  mark  my 
name  around  it,  will  you  ?  The  way  I  feel  now  I'd 
like  to  crawl  into  it  and  pull  it  after  me.  One 
about  the  size  of  a  ten-cent  piece  would  do,  and 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS"        243 

even  then  I  guess  there'd  be  room  and  to  spare  for 
the  rest  of  this  gang." 

When  I  got  down  to  the  skiff  Van  comes  run- 
ning to  catch  up.  He  caught  me  by  the  arm  and 
hauled  me  to  one  side. 

11  Skipper,"  says  he,  "  what  the  devil's  the  mat- 
ter?" 

I  told  him  in  as  few  words  as  I  could.  He 
roared.  "  That's  all  right,"  he  says.  "  I'll  fix 
that." 

He  went  over  to  his  chum  and  slapped  him  on 
the  back. 

"  Brace  up,  old  man,"  he  says,  "  it's  a  mistake, 
and  a  mighty  good  joke  on  you,  isn't  it?  Of 
course  I'll  square  you  with  Agnes." 

Hartley  turned  on  him  so  quick  that  he  jumped. 

"  If  you  please,"  says  Martin,  cutting  and  clear 
as  a  razor,  "  you  will  perhaps  be  good  enough  to 
mind  your  own  business.  If  you  mention  one 
word  concerning  me  to  that  lady  you  and  I  part 
company.     Is  that  thoroughly  plain?  " 

'Twas  the  first  time  I'd  ever  heard  them  two 
have  a  hard  word.  The  trip  to  Ozone  Island  was 
as  joyful  as  a  funeral. 


CHAPTER   XV 
\THE    WHITE    PLAGUE 

THE  fat  was  all  in  the  fire.  Hartley's  great 
scheme  that  he  thought  was  going  to  help 
Eureka,  and  that  I  cal'lated  would  be  one 
more  big  boost  for  him  in  the  Page  girl's  eyes,  had 
gone  to  pot  to  see  the  kettle  bile.  Instead  of  get- 
ting rid  of  Papa  Sparrow,  it  had  fetched  that  old 
hypocrite  right  over  to  eat  and  sleep  and  groan 
under  our  very  noses.  And,  instead  of  helping 
Martin's  love  business,  it  had  knocked  the  keel 
right  out  of  it  and  left  him  stranded  with  a  bigger 
reputation  than  ever  for  cold-blooded,  mercenary 
money  grabbing.     Sweet  mess,  wa'n't  it? 

I  snum,  I  did  hate  to  tell  Eureka !  And  yet  of 
course  she  was  bound  to  find  it  out  for  herself. 
When  she  went  home  that  night,  thinks  I,  "  I'll 
catch  it  to-morrow  morning."  And,  sure  enough, 
next  morning  she  was  laying  for  me. 

She  come  out  to  the  garden,  where  I  was  trying 
to  fool  myself  into  hoping  that  six  inches  of  green 

244 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  245 

string,  with  a  leaf  or  two  hung  along  it,  might  bear 
a  cucumber  some  day,  and  down  she  sets  in  the 
heap  of  dry  seaweed  by  the  pig-pen. 

"  Now,  then,"  says  she,  sharp,  "  I  want  to  know 
all  about  it." 

"  Oh!  "  says  I,  looking  innocent  at  the  cucum- 
ber string;  "  I  ain't  give  up  hope,  by  no  manner  of 
means.  If  the  loam  don't  blow  off,  and  I'm  able 
to  lug  water  enough,  we'll  have  as  much  as  one  jar 
of  two-inch  pickles  off  this  plantation  by  the  time 
the  Heavenlies  are  ready  to  quit." 

"  Humph!  "  she  sniffs.  "  You  ought  to  pickle 
that  understanding  of  yours.  It's  too  fresh  and 
green  to  keep  long,  out  in  this  sun.  Now  you  look 
me  in  the  eye  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"About  what?"  I  asks,  not  looking  at  her, 
however. 

"  About  the  doings  at  our  house  yesterday. 
Why  is  Pa  coming  over  here  to  live?  And  what 
makes  Mr.  Hartley  so  blue  and  cross?  And  how 
come  that  Agnes  Page  to  be  mixed  up  in  our 
affairs  ?  Out  with  it.  It's  my  family  business,  and 
I  want  to  know." 

So  I  had  to  tell  her.  She  was  pretty  mad,  and 
mighty  sarcastic. 


246  MR.  PRATT 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  snaps.  "  Didn't  you  know 
no  better  than  that?  Didn't  you  know  that  a  girl 
who's  as  far  gone  with  charity  as  Miss  Page  is 
would  be  sure  to  go  and  see  Pa  and  want  to  do  for 
him?  I've  found  out  that  she's  been  giving  him 
money  for  medicine  and  things  for  over  a  week. 
Why,  a  sentimental  city  woman  is  Pa's  best  holt; 
he  can  tie  'em  in  bow  knots  round  his  finger.  I 
s'pose  you  thought  you  could  fetch  Hartley  and 
his  girl  together  all  by  yourself.  Well,  you've 
done  a  good  job.  Now  I've  got  to  begin  it  all 
over  again." 

"  It  ain't  no  use  now,"  I  says.  "  She's  down 
on  him  for  good." 

"  Rubbish !  Don't  talk  so  foolish.  It'll  be  my 
turn  next,  and  my  plans  won't  go  backside  front- 
wards, like  a  crab.  And  I've  got  to  fix  Pa,  too. 
I've  been  working  out  a  notion  about  him  for  two 
or  three  days.  I  guess  it's  time  to  be  starting  it 
a-going." 

She  wouldn't  tell  me  what  the  notion  was. 
'Twas  her  turn  to  have  secrets.  She  seemed 
pleased  to  have  Editha  and  the  children  go  over 
to  the  Fresh  Air  School,  because  there  they  could 
be  studying  their  lessons  with  somebody  to  look 
after  'em.    She  liked  the  idea  of  Lycurgus'  hiring 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  247 

out  to  Nate  Scudder,  too,  though  she  did  say  that 
she  guessed  he  wouldn't  wear  out  his  pants'  pock- 
ets carting  his  wages  around. 

Next  day  she  stayed  at  home  and  shut  up  the 
house,  and  that  night  she  and  Washy  come  to  the 
Island  to  stay  all  the  time.  They  had  rooms  in 
the  back  part  of  the  house,  three  flights  up,  and 
Scudder  sold  the  Twins  bedding  and  truck  enough 
to  more  than  make  up  for  losing  the  rent  of  the 
Sparrow  house.  Van  put  the  wax  wreath  and 
Marcellus's  picture  and  the  rest  of  Nate's  "  pres- 
ents "  up  in  the  invalid's  room.  He  said  he 
thought  they  was  kind  of  appropriate.  Washy 
didn't  mind.  He  said  they  was  lovely  and  made 
him  think  of  his  "  future  state."  'Cording  to  my 
notion  the  cook-stove  would  have  been  better  for 
that. 

Martin  and  his  chum  was  pretty  cool  to  each 
other  for  a  while,  but  they  soon  got  over  it. 
Hartley  was  different,  though,  from  what  he'd 
been  afore.  He  was  more  reckless  and  his  "  don't 
care  "  manner  was  back  again;  only,  now  that  his 
health  was  so  good,  it  showed  in  other  ways. 

The  two  of  'em  took  to  raising  the  very  Old 
Boy.  They  must  be  up  to  something  all  the  time. 
The  Island  wa'n't  big  enough  to  hold  'em  and  they 


248  MR.  PRATT 

was  crowded  over  into  the  village,  so  to  speak. 
They  got  mixed  up  with  some  of  the  men  boarders 
at  the  hotel  and  'twas  "  Whoop ! "  and  "  Hooray ! " 
all  the  time. 

They  and  the  boarders  got  horses  out  of  the 
livery  stable  and  had  races  right  through  the  main 
street;  going  it  licketty-cut  and  scandalizing  the 
neighbors  and  scaring  old  women  into  conniption 
fits.  Deacon  Patterson  had  a  new  horse  and  the 
Deacon  happened  to  be  setting  in  his  buggy  in 
front  of  the  Boston  Dry  Goods  and  Variety  Store 
when  the  racers  went  by.  The  racket  scared  the 
critter  and  he  bolted,  and  there  was  the  Deacon 
going  down  the  road  in  the  middle  of  the  race, 
hollering  "  Whoa !  "  to  beat  the  cars,  with  his  hat 
off  and  his  hair  a-flying.  Lots  of  the  sewing  circle 
women  saw  him  and  'twas  town  talk  for  weeks. 
The  Deacon  was  going  to  have  the  Twins  took  up 
and  sent  to  jail,  but  he  didn't.  He  prayed  for  'em 
in  meeting  instead. 

Van  Brunt  got  another  letter  from  Agnes  pretty 
quick  after  the  race.  She'd  heard  about  it  and  she 
give  him  fits.  Why  was  it  necessary  for  Mm — she 
didn't  mention  Martin — to  shock  the  community 
and  public  opinion  ?  She  wanted  to  know  that  and 
other  things  similar.     He  read  a  little  of  the  let- 


*  [THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  249 

ter  to  Hartley  and  that's  how  I  heard  it.  I'd  have 
heard  more,  probably,  only  Hartley  got  up  and 
walked  off.  And  he  was  blue  as  a  whetstone  for 
the  rest  of  the  day. 

I  guess  the  Talford  girl  wa'n't  quite  so  shocked. 
Anyhow  me  and  Van  met  her  up  in  the  village  one 
afternoon  and  she  wanted  to  know  all  about  the 
race. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  old  Mr.  Pat- 
terson," says  she.  u  He  is  always  so  very  sol- 
emn and  pompous.  It  must  have  been  killingly 
funny." 

Van  told  her  the  yarn,  trimming  it  up  fine  as 
usual,  and  they  laughed  and  had  lots  of  fun  over 
it.  He  went  around  with  her  shopping  all  the 
afternoon  and  I  was  forgot  altogether.  I  didn't 
mind.  I  don't  hanker  for  famousness,  and  the 
way  the  small  boys  followed  Van  Brunt  around 
and  pointed  at  him  and  snickered  was  too  popular 
altogether.  I  cal'late  he'd  been  preached  up  to 
them  young  ones  as  a  horrible  example  till  they 
envied  him  'most  as  mucK  as  if  he  was  a  pirate. 

Ozone  Island  was  chock  full  of  secrets  and 
whisperings  by  this  time.  Van  kept  up  his  little 
side  talks  and  backyard  confabs  with  Scudder;  and 
Hartley  seemed  to  have  caught  the  disease.    I  see 


a5o  MR.  PRATT. 

him  and  Nate  looking  mysterious  at  each  other 
and  meeting  together  in  out  of  the  way  places  time 
and  time  again.  And  the  mail  was  getting  heayier 
and  there  was  half  burned  telegram  envelopes  in 
the  stove  ashes  more'n  once.  But  nobody  ever 
mentioned  getting  a  telegram. 

There  was  so  much  reading  matter  'round  the 
place  now  that  Eureka  was  in  her  glory.  She  read 
when  she  got  breakfast,  with  a  book  propped  up 
on  the  kitchen  table.  She  read  when  she  dusted, 
holding  the  dust  cloth  in  one  hand  and  a  magazine 
in  t'other.  She  read  when  she  ate.  She  went  up- 
stairs at  night  reading;  and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
she  read  in  her  sleep. 

Washy  had  been  pretty  decent,  for  him,  for  the 
first  week  after  he  landed  in  his  new  quarters. 
But  his  decency  didn't  last  long.  He  begun  to  fuss 
and  find  fault  and  groan  and  growl.  Miss  Page 
sent  him  nice  things  to  eat — and  he  always  ate  'em 
every  speck  himself — and  medicine,  which  he  took 
about  a  spoonful  of  and  then  said  'twa'n't  helping 
him  none  and  give  it  up.  He  yelled  for  Eureka 
every  few  minutes  and  she'd  have  to  drop  her 
work  and  run  and  wait  on  him.  He  was  a  pesky 
outrage  and  everybody  hated  him,  including  Van, 
who  said  that  he  was  a  common  nuisance  and  if 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  251 

''twaVt  for  his  promise  to  Agnes  he'd  abate  him 
with  a  shot-gun. 

One  day  Eureka  comes  out  on  the  porch  where 
the  Heavenlies  was  setting,  and  says  she : 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  would  you  and  Mr.  Hartley 
be  willing  for  me  to  cure  Pa?  " 

41  Cure  him?  "  asks  Van,  surprised.  "  Cure 
him?  Yes,  indeed.  Or  kill  him  either,"  he  adds, 
under  his  breath. 

Hartley  didn't  say  nothing.  He  never  spoke  to 
old  man  Sparrow  now  nor  of  him,  far's  that  went. 

41  All  right,"  Eureka  says.     "  Thank  you." 

44  What's  the  cook  got  up  her  sleeve  concerning 
the  afflicted  parent?  "  asks  Van  of  me. 

44 1  don't  know,"  says  I.    And  I  didn't. 

That  afternoon  Eureka  got  me  to  help  her  lug 
the  haircloth  lounge  from  the  front  parlor  out  to 
the  spare  shed,  the  one  we  didn't  use.  'Twas  a 
little  ten  by  six  building  that  Marcellus  had  for  a 
tool  house,  and  the  shingles  was  falling  off  and  the 
roof  and  sides  full  of  cracks  and  knotholes.  We 
set  the  lounge  down  in  there. 

41  What  on  earth?  "  says  I. 

44  I'm  going  to  tell  you,"  says  she.  "  Mr.  Hart- 
ley said  I  could  have  the  lounge." 

Then  she  told  me  what  her  plan  was.    'Twas  a 


252  MR.  PRATT 

mighty  good  one,  and  I  promised  to  help  along.    I 
laughed  over  it  till  supper  time. 

That  evening  we  was  all  in  the  dining-room. 
The  weather  had  changed  lately  and  the  nights 
was  chilly  and  windy.  'Twa'n't  pleasant  enough 
for  the  Twins  to  be  on  the  porch,  and  Washy  had 
come  down  from  his  room  and  was  all  hunched  up 
in  front  of  the  stove  in  the  kitchen.  Eureka  was 
just  finishing  the  dishes.  All  of  a  sudden  I  heard 
her  say: 

"Pa,  I  don't  s'pose  you  feel  well  enough  to  go 
to  work?  " 

I  could  hear  her  dad's  feet  come  down  off  the 
stove  hearth  with  a  thump.  He  started  to  speak, 
and  then,  remembering  himself,  he  coughed,  as 
hollow  as  an  empty  biler. 

"  I  asked,"  Eureka  goes  on,  "  because  I  saw 
Mr.  Brown  yesterday  and  he  said  you  could  have 
that  job  at  the  hotel  any  time  you  wanted  it." 

"  Hotel  job !  "  hollers  Washy.  "  How  long  do 
you  cal'late  I'd  last  lugging  bricks  and  digging? 
Ain't  you  satisfied  to  see  me  slipping  into  the  grave 
day  by  day,  without  wanting  to  shove  me  under 
all  at  once?  " 

"  No,  I  knew  you  wa'n't  fit  to  work.  But  Pa, 
I've  been  hoping  to  find  a  way  to  cure  you  some 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  253 

day,  and  now  I've  learned  the  way.  And  I'm 
going  to  try  it." 

Washy  coughed  again.  I  was  listening  with  all 
my  ears,  and  I  see  the  Twins  doing  the  same. 

"Cure?  Humph!"  sniffs  the  old  man.  "I'm 
past  curing,  darter.  Don't  you  worry  about  me. 
Let  me  die,  that's  all;  let  me  die.  Only  I  hope 
'twon't  be  too  slow.  Cure !  The  doctors  give  me 
up  long  spell  ago." 

"  Doctors  give  you  up!  What  doctors?  No- 
body but  Penrose,  and  you've  said  more'n  a  thou- 
sand times  that  he  wa'n't  no  doctor.  I've  been 
reading  up  lately  and  I  know  how  real  doctors  cure 
folks." 

"  It  ain't  no  use — "  begins  her  dad.  She  cut 
him  short. 

"  Your  case  is  kind  of  mixed-up,  Pa,"  says  she, 
"  I'm  free  to  say,  owing  to  your  consumption  be- 
ing complicated  with  nervous  dyspepsy.  But  I've 
made  up  my  mind  to  start  in  on  your  lungs  and 
kind  of  work  'round  to  your  stomach.  You  listen 
to  this." 

She  come  in  the  dining-room  and  took  a  maga- 
zine out  of  the  chest  of  drawers.  Then  she  opened 
to  a  place  where  the  leaf  was  turned  down,  and 
went  back  to  the  kitchen. 


254  MR.  PRATT 

"  Consumption,  Pa,"  she  says,  "  ain't  cured  by 
medicine  no  more.  Not  by  the  real  doctors,  it 
ain't.  You  say  yourself  that  all  Miss  Page's  medi- 
cine ain't  done  you  no  good.  Fresh  air  night  and 
day  is  what's  needed,  and  you  don't  get  it  here  by 
the  stove  or  shut  up  in  your  room.  You  ought  to 
live  out  door.    Yes,  and  sleep  there,  too." 

"Sleep  out  door?  What  kind  of  talk  is  that? 
Be  you  crazy  or " 

"  Don't  screech  so,  Pa,"  says  Eureka,  cold  as 
an  ice  chest.  "  Folks  over  on  the  main  will  think 
this  place  is  on  fire.  Listen  to  this.  Here's  a 
piece  about  consumption  in  this  magazine.  They 
call  it  the  '  White  Plague.'  I'll  read  you  some 
of  it." 

The  Heavenlies  was  in  a  broad  grin  by  this 
time.  Washy  kept  yelling  that  he  didn't  want  to 
hear  no  such  foolishness,  but  his  daughter  spelt  out 
different  parts  of  the  magazine  piece.  It  told 
about  how  dangerous  shut-up  rooms  and  "  con- 
fined atmospheres "  was,  and  about  what  it 
called  "  open  air  sanitariums  "  and  outdoor  bed- 
rooms. 

"See,  Pa,"  says  she;  "look  at  this  picture. 
Here's  a  tent  where  two  consumptive  folks  lived 
and  slept  for  over  a  year.     'Twas  thirty  below 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  255 

zero  there  sometimes,  but  it  cured  'em.  And  see 
this  one.  'Twas  forty-five  below  where  that  shanty- 
was,  but " 

The  invalid  jumped  out  of  his  chair  and  come 
bolting  into  the  dining-room. 

"Take  it  away!"  he  yells,  frantic.  "If  you 
expect  me  to  believe  such  lies  as  them  you're " 

"  They  ain't  lies,"  says  Eureka,  following  him 
up,  and  speaking  calm  and  easy.  "  They're  true; 
ain't  they,  Mr.  Van  Brunt?  " 

Van  smothered  his  grins  and  nodded. 

"  True  as  gospel,"  he  says. 

"  Yes,  course  they  be.  And  Pa,  I'm  going  to 
cure  you  or  die  a-trying.  The  old  tool-house  out 
back  of  the  barn  is  just  the  place  for  you.  It's  full 
of  holes  and  cracks,  so  there'll  be  plenty  of  fresh 
air.  And  I  took  the  sofy  out  there  this  very  day. 
You  can  sleep  there  nights  and  set  in  the  sun  day 
times.  You  mustn't  come  in  the  house  at  all.  I 
mean  to  keep  you  outdoor  all  winter,  and 
then " 

The  Heavenlies  just  howled  and  so  did  I. 
Washy  Sparrow  howled,  too,  but  not  from  laugh- 
ing. 

"  All  winter!  "  he  screams.  "  The  gal's  gone 
loony!     She  wants  to  kill  me  and  get  me  out  of 


256  MR.  PRATT 

the  way.  I  sha'n't  stir  one  step.  ,You  hear  me? 
Not  one  step !  " 

"  This  piece  says  that  many  patients  act  that 
way  first  along.  '  In  such  cases  it  is  often  neces- 
sary to  use  force.'  Mr.  Pratt,  will  you  take  Pa 
out  to  the  tool  shed?    I'll  carry  the  lamp." 

Would  I?  I  was  aching  for  the  chance  to  get 
my  hands  on  the  little  rat.  I  stood  up  and  squared 
my  shoulders. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  yells  Washy,  dodging  into 
the  corner,  "  be  you  going  to  set  by  and  see  me 
murdered?  Didn't  you  swear  your  Bible  oath  to 
treat  me  kind?  " 

"  There  couldn't  be  nothing  kinder  than  curing 
you,  Pa,"  says  Eureka.  "  It's  all  right,  ain't  it, 
Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

Van  didn't  answer  for  a  second.  Then  he  says, 
like  he'd  decided,  "  Yes,  it's  dead  right.  Go  ahead 
and  cure  him,  for  heaven's  sake,  if  you  can !  I'll 
back  you  up  and  take  my  chances." 

"  My  nerves — "  begins  Washy. 

"  Nerves,"  says  Eureka,  "  come  from  the 
stomach.  I'll  'tend  to  them  later.  We'll  cure  your 
lungs  first.    Mr.  Pratt,  fetch  him  along." 

I  got  my  fingers  on  the  back  of  that  consump- 
tive's neck.     He  fought  and  hung  back.    Then  I 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  257 

grabbed  him  by  the  waist-band  with  t'other  hand. 
He  moved  then,  "  walking  Spanish,"  like  the  boy 
in  the  school-yard. 

Eureka  opened  the  door.  "  Nobody  can  say,'* 
says  she,  emphatic,  "  that  I  let  my  Pa  die  of  con- 
sumption without  trying  to  cure  him.  Come  along, 
Mr.  Pratt." 

"  Remember,  Mr.  Sparrow,"  says  Van,  busting 
with  laugh,  "  it's  all  for  your  good." 

We  went  out  and  across  the  yard  and  round 
back  of  the  barn.  The  Twins  come  to  the  door 
to  see  us  off.  I  could  hear  'em  laughing  even 
after  we  was  out  of  sight.  Eureka  shaded  the 
lamp  with  her  apron.  When  we  got  to  the  shed 
there  was  a  bran-new  padlock  on  the  door  of  it. 

"  I  put  it  on  this  afternoon,"  says  she.  "  I'm 
pretty  handy  at  fixing  things  up." 

We  went  into  the  shed  and  she  put  the  lamp  on 
the  floor  in  the  corner. 

"  I  guess  maybe  Mr.  Pratt  '11  stay  till  you  get 
undressed,  Pa,"  she  says.  "  .You  tell  him  the  rest, 
Mr.  Pratt.    Good  night." 

She  went  out  and  shut  the  door.  The  patient 
set  down  on  the  lounge  and  looked  at  the  cracks 
in  the  walls.  The  wind  off  the  bay  was  singing 
through  'em  and  there  was  a  steady  hailstorm  of 


258  MR.  PRATT 

sand  coming  with  it.     If  fresh  air  was  physic, 
^Sparrow  was  certain  to  be  a  well  man. 

"  Get  undressed,"  says  I.     "  Hurry  up." 
*'  I'll  freeze  to  death,"  says  he,  shivering. 

"  No  you  won't.  Not  in  August.  Maybe,  later 
on,  in  December,  'twill  be  different.  But,  anyhow, 
freezing's  a  quick  death,  so  they  say,  and  I've 
heard  you  hankering  to  die  quick  ever  since  I  knew 
you.    Get  into  bed." 

He  took  off  his  coat  and  vest  and  camped  out  on 
the  lounge.  There  was  plenty  of  bed  clothes.  I 
took  up  the  lamp.    Then  I  looked  up  at  him. 

"  There's  one  or  two  things  more,"  says  I. 
*'  To-morrow  morning  you'll  be  for  coming  into 
the  house.  Well,  you  can't  come.  You'll  stay  out- 
side, same  as  Eureka  says  you  will.  And  the  skiff 
and  sloop  are  locked  and  chained,  so  you  can't  run 
away  in  them.  And  Scudder  won't  take  you,  nor 
any  letters  from  you,  'cause  he's  in  the  game,  too. 
And  when  Miss  Page  comes,  if  she  does  come, 
don't  you  dare  tell  her  one  word.  If  you  do — 
well,  you  won't  die  of  consumption,  anyhow." 

I  pounded  my  knee  with  my  fist  when  I  said  it. 
It's  a  pretty  average  fist,  far's  size  is  concerned, 
and  I  see  him  looking  at  it. 

I  said  "  Good  night  "  and  went  out  and  locked 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  259 

the  door  and  took  away  the  key.  The  fresh  air 
cure  had  begun. 

Next  day  was  raw  and  chilly  and  the  invalid  put 
in  the  hours  chasing  what  few  patches  of  sunshine 
happened  to  come  along.  Eureka  brought  hi* 
meals  out  to  him.  He  begged  and  pleaded  to  be 
let  into  the  house,  but  'twas  no  go.  He  spent  that: 
night  in  the  tool-house,  same  as  he  had  the  first. 

For  a  week  he  stayed  outdoor.  Then  he  said  he 
felt  so  much  better  that  he  guessed  he  could  risk 
a  day  inside.    Eureka  was  ready  for  him. 

"  I'm  glad  your  lungs  feel  better,  Pa,"  she  says, 
"  I  thought  they  would.  But,  of  course,  you 
mustn't  come  in  for  months  and  months  yet.  I 
guess  it's  time  to  start  in  on  the  dyspepsy  line." 

She  took  a  piece  of  paper  out  of  her  dress  waist 
and  unfolded  it.  "  I  sent  a  dollar  to  a  doctor  that 
advertised  in  the  People's  Magazine"  she  says, 
"  and  I  got  this.  It's  for  dyspepsy,  Pa,  and  par-, 
ticular  nervous  dyspepsy.  *  A  careful  diet  and 
plenty  of  exercise,'  "  she  read.  "  We'll  begin  on 
the  dieting.  '  In  severe  cases  patient  should  take 
nothing  but  hot  milk.'  We've  got  plenty  of  milk 
— such  as  'tis.    That's  a  comfort." 

Her  dad  had  been  setting  on  the  wash-bench 
back  of  the  kitchen.     Now  he  jumped  up  off  it 


26o  MR.  PRATT 

like  'twas  red  Hot.  "  Do  you  have  tKe  face  to  tell 
me,"  he  screams,  "  that  I  can't  have  nothing  to 
eat  but  milk?    Why,  that's " 

"  Doctor's  orders,  Pa,"  says  Eureka.  "  I'm 
going  by  doctor's  orders,  and  see  what  they've 
done  for  your  lungs  already." 

11 1  can't  live  on  milk  I  I  ain't  a  baby.  I  Hate 
the  stuff !    I  don't  believe  no  doctor  'd  ever — »— " 

"  Well,  we'll  call  Dr.  Penrose  and  see  what  he 
says.    I'll  bet  he'll  back  me  up." 

Washy  didn't  take  the  bet.  He  knew  what  Dr. 
Penrose  thought  of  him  and  his  ailments. 

"  Aw,  Reky,  please — "  he  begs. 

"  For  your  own  good,  Pa,"  says  his  daughter. 
"  I'll  fetch  you  the  hot  milk." 

She  did — a  quart  of  it.  He  drank  it  'cause 
there  wa'n't  nothing  else.  For  another  week  he 
lived  on  hot  skim-milk  and  cold  fresh  air.  He 
pleaded  with  the  Heavenlies  and  me,  but  we 
hadn't  any  pity  for  him.  He  tackled  Scudder,  but 
Nate  never  pitied  anybody  unless  there  was  money 
in  it.  He  tried  smuggling  letters  to  Agnes,  get- 
ting Lycurgus  to  carry  'em;  but  Lys  was  in  with 
his  sister  and  the  letters  never  got  any  further  than 
Eureka's  pocket. 

'Twas  fun  for  the  rest  of  us,  but  a  kind  of  nui- 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  26i 

sance  in  some  ways.  You  see  the  sight  of  us  eat- 
ing three  square  meals  a  day  was  horrible  tantal- 
izing to  a  dyspeptic  with  an  appetite  like  Wastry's. 
He'd  peek  in  through  the  dining-room  windows 
while  we  was  at  the  table,  and  groan  steady  and 
loud  till  dessert  time.  Van  said  it  reminded  him 
of  what  he  called  a  "tarble  dote "  at  a  Hun- 
garian restaurant  in  New  York.  He  said  there 
was  music  at  both  places,  but  that,  on  the  whole, 
Washy's  music  was  the  best  of  the  two. 

The  Sunday  of  the  week  following  was  a  mean 
day.  A  cold  rain  and  considerable  wind;  more 
like  October  than  August.  The  invalid  set  in  the 
tool-shed  with  the  door  opened  and  an  umbrella 
keeping  off  the  rain  that  leaked  through  the  cracks 
in  the  raof.  He  looked  as  happy  and  snug  as  a 
locked-out  cat  in  a  thunder  storm. 

"  Aw,  Eureka,"  says  he,  when  me  and  hi3 
daughter  went  out  to  the  shed  with  the  noon 
bucket  of  steaming  milk.  "  Aw,  Eureka,"  he  says, 
"  won't  you  let  me  have  something  hearty?  Only 
a  hunk  of  bread,  say?  I've  drownded  my  insides 
with  that  thin  milk  till  I  feel  like  a  churn.  I 
can't  keep  on  drinking  the  stuff.  The  mere  sight 
of  a  cow  would  make  me  seasick." 

But  Eureka  wouldn't  give  in.     "  It's  all  for 


a62  MR.  PRATT 

your  good,  Pa,"  she  said.  That  was  what  Van 
told  him  every  chance  he  got.  I  cal'late  them 
words  had  come  to  be  almost  as  sickening  to  him 
as  the  milk. 

Next  morning  I  got  up  early  and  come  down- 
stairs. 'Twas  blowing  hard  and  still  raining. 
Eureka  hadn't  turned  out  yet.  I  opened  the  door 
of  the  kitchen  and  there  I  see  a  sight. 

In  the  rocking  chair  by  the  kitchen  stove  was 
Washy  Sparrow,  sprawled  out  fast  asleep.  His 
feet  was  on  the  hearth  of  the  stove,  a  piece  of  pie- 
crust was  on  the  floor  by  his  hand,  his  head  was 
tipped  back  and  his  mouth  wide  open.  And  his 
face — oh,  say !    It  was  perfect  peace  and  comfort. 

The  critter,  so  it  turned  out  afterwards,  had 
hunted  around  in  the  night  till  he  found  a  cellar 
window  unlocked.  Then  he'd  crawled  in  and  tip- 
toed up  to  the  kitchen. 

I  went  upstairs  again  and  routed  out  the  Heav- 
enlies.  I  wanted  'em  to  see  the  show.  We  stood 
in  the  door  and  looked  at  it.  Just  then  Eureka 
come  along. 

"  My  soul  and  body !  "  she  sings  out. 

Her  dad  heard  her  and  woke  up.  First  he  just 
opened  his  eyes  and  stretched.  Then  he  set  up- 
straight  and  turned  round.    He  turned  pale. 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE  265 

"  Well,  Pa !  "  says  Eureka,  sharp,  "  what  sort 
of  doings  is  this?    What  do  you  mean ?  " 

Sparrow  stared  at  her;  then  at  us.  He  started 
to  speak.  Then  he  happened  to  notice  my  fist ;  and 
he  never  said  a  word. 

"  The  idea !  "  says  Eureka.  "  After  all  I've 
done  to  cure  you.  Roasting  in  this  hot  kitchen  and 
eating — is  that  apple  pie  crust  by  your  hand?  " 

She  stepped  across  and  opened  the  pantry  door. 

"  My  sakes  alive !  "  she  says.  "  I  swan  to  man 
if  he  ain't  ate  everything  in  the  buttery !  " 

"  I — I — "  stammers  Washy,  wild  like.  "  I — 
I — I  didn't  mean  to,  but  I  was  starved  and — and 
half  drownded,  and " 

"  Pie!  "  says  Eureka.  "  Well,  I  never!  Now 
we're  in  a  nice  mess ;  and  all  to  do  over  again." 

"  I'm  all  right  now,  anyway,"  says  Washy.  "  I 
ain't  coughing  none  and  the  grub  don't  distress  me 
a  mite.  Not  half  so  much  as  that  cussed  blue 
milk." 

"  All  to  do  over,"  says  Eureka.  "  And  I  don't 
know  as  we'll  ever  cure  you  now.  Get  out  door 
this  minute.  And  you  mustn't  eat  a  thing,  not 
even  milk,  for  three  or  four  days.  Open  that  out* 
side  door,  please,  Mr.  Pratt." 

I  opened  the  door.    The  rain  come  beating  in> 


264  MR.  PRATT 

with  the  wind  back  of  it.  It  hit  Washy  like  a  cold 
wave. 

"  I'm  all  right,  I  tell  you !  "  he  yelled.  "  I  feel 
fine.     Better'n  ever  I  was,  don't  knows  I  ain't." 

"Are  you  sure,  Pa?" 

"Sure?  Course  I'm  sure.  Don't  I  know?  I'm 
all  cured." 

"  Well,  that's  a  mercy,"  Eureka  says.  "  I  knew 
'twas  the  right  receipts,  but  I  didn't  think  they'd 
work  so  quick.  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  Pa's  cured.  He'll 
take  that  job  at  the  hotel  this  very  day;  just  as 
soon  as  it  clears  up  a  little." 

The  Heavenlies  shouted  and  so  did  I.  The 
cured  man  looked  tolerable  uneasy.  He  choked 
up  and  begun  to  sputter. 

"  Course  you  mustn't  go  if  you  ain't  real  well 
and  cured  for  good,  Pa,"  says  his  daughter. 
"  Maybe  you'd  better  try  the  tool-house  and  the 
milk  a  spell  longer." 

The  door  was  still  open.  And  the  wind  and 
rain  was  driving  in.  Washy  swallowed,  and  an- 
swered slow: 

"  I'll— I'll  go,"  he  says.  "  But  I'll  have  to 
work  sort  of  easy  first  along,  so's " 

"  Oh,  no!  you  must  work  real  hard,  so's  to  get 
the  exercise,  or  you'll  have  a  relapse.     Mr.  Pratt, 


THE  WHITE  PLAGUE     ,        265 

you'll  tell  Mr.  Brown  to  see  that  Pa  works  the  way 
he'd  ought  to,  won't  you  ?  " 

I  nodded.     "  He'll  work,"  says  I,  decided. 

At  ten  o'clock  'twas  clear  and  I  rowed  the  ex- 
consumptive  dyspeptic  over  to  the  main  and  led 
him  up  to  the  hotel.  I  give  him  some  advice  as  I 
went  along. 

That  afternoon  the  Twins  did  nothing  but  tell 
Eureka  that  she  was  a  wonder. 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  I  cal'late  he's  cured,  at  least 
for  a  spell.  Anyhow,  that  '  Everybody  works  but 
father '  song  don't  fit  our  family  no  more." 


CHAPTER   XVI 
[THE  NATURAL  LIFE 

WASHY  SPARROW'S  going  to  work 
was  the  biggest  surprise  Wellmouth 
had  had  since  old  man  Ginn,  owner  of 
the  Palace  Billiard  Pool  and  Sipio  Parlors,  got 
converted  and  joined  the  Good  Templars.  No- 
body would  believe  it,  of  course,  without  seeing 
him  do  it  with  their  own  eyes,  and  there  was  so 
many  folks  round  the  hotel  that  Peter  Brown  said 
he  was  thinking  of  charging  admission.  Agnes 
Page  heard  the  news  and  come  posting  over  to 
find  out  what  sort  of  cruelizing  her  pet  invalid  had 
had  to  bear.  Van  Brunt  done  the  explaining;  it 
was  right  in  his  line. 

"  It  was  the  invigorating  atmosphere  of  Ozone 
Island  that  did  it,  Agnes,"  he  said.  "  When  we 
have  finished  ruralizing  here  I'm  considering  turn- 
ing the  place  into  a  sanitarium.  One  week  of 
Pratt's  chowder  and  Eureka's  corn  muffins,  cou- 
pled with  the  bay  breezes  and  the  odor  of  clam 

266 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  267 

flats  and  seaweed,  would  make  an  Egyptian 
mummy  turn  flip-flaps.  I  have  to  lay  violent 
hands  on  myself  every  day,  or  I,  too,  would  be 
seized  with  the  laboring  fever." 

She  looked  at  him,  kind  of  odd.  "  That  is  most 
alarming  news,"  says  she,  "  if  true.  I  confess  I 
hadn't  noticed  the  symptoms.  Your  temperature 
appears  to  be  normal  at  present." 

11  It  is,"  he  says.  "  I  flatter  myself  that  I  am 
making  a  magnificent  fight  against  the  disease. 
My  most  rabid  attacks  are  in  the  early  morning, 
before  I  get  out  of  bed.  Then  I  feel  the  insane 
desire  for  work,  hard  work,  creeping  over  me. 
But  I  am  firm.  I  reason  thus :  *  The  governor  is 
sixty  odd  and  his  heart  is  weak.  Think  of  the 
shock  that  the  news  would  be  to  him  ?  Think  J — 
and  so  forth.  So  I  resolve  to  keep  up  the  fight. 
By  the  time  I  am  dressed  and  have  had  breakfast 
all  yearning  for  work  has  left  me.  Don't  you 
think  I  deserve  credit?" 

She  said  he  did.  Only  he  must  be  careful  and 
not  get  up  and  work  in  his  sleep.  I  listened  with 
my  mouth  open  as  usual.  Such  crazy  drivel  from 
grown  up  men  and  women  was  too  many  for  me. 
It  wa'n't  intended  to  be  funny,  of  course,  because 
they  never  smiled.     It  beat  me  altogether,  and 


268  MR.  PRATT 

Eureka  said  the  same.  'Twas  her  notion  that  all 
the  lunatics  that  was  crowded  out  of  the  asylums, 
or  was  too  rich  to  be  put  into  'em  was  sent  to  New 
lYork.  It  sounded  reasonable  enough  to  believe, 
sometimes. 

Agnes  saw  Sparrow,  of  course,  but  Brown  was 
by  when  she  see  him  and  Washy  didn't  dare  say 
but  he'd  gone  to  work  of  his  own  accord/  I 
cal'late  that  he  figgerecl  that  the  gang  of  us  would 
have  killed  him  if  he  had.  So  the  Page  girl  went 
back  to  Eastwich  satisfied.  And  Eureka  went 
home  again  nights  and  kept  house  for  Lycurgus 
and  her  dad.  But  Hartley  looked  out  that  the 
most  of  the  old  man's  ten  dollars  a  Week  was 
turned  over  to  her. 

The  Heavenlies  quiet  Naturalness  had  pretty 
nigh  disappeared  altogether  now.  They  was 
restless  all  the  time.  Mail  was  heavy  and  the 
telegram  envelopes  in  the  coal  hod  and  around 
was  thicker  than  ever.  And  Scudder  come  to 
Ozone  three  times  a  day. 

By  September  I  thought  sure  they'd  be  ready 
to  quit  and  go  home.  They  acted  to  me  as  though 
they  was  tired  of  the  whole  thing.  I  thought  I'd 
sound  'em,  so  I  says : 

"  I  s'pose  likely  you'll  be  for  shutting  up  this 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  269 

shop  and  getting  back  to  the  city  'most  any  day 
pretty  soon  now,  won't  you?  " 

Van  Brunt  looked  at  his  chum  and  Hartley 
looked  at  him.  Then  they  caught  themselves 
doing  it,  and  looked  away  quick. 

"  Why,  skipper!  "  says  Van,  "  what  makes  you 
say  that?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  'special,"  says  I.  "  Only  it 
seemed  to  me  that  you  was  kind  of  nervous  and 
fidgety  lately.  Didn't  know  but  you  was  anxious 
to  be  '  dealing '  them  stocks  of  yours,  or  some- 
thing. You've  been  away  from  'em  a  good  while." 

It  was  Hartley  that  answered.  "  Van  is  done 
with  the  stock  market,"  he  says,  quick.  "  He  has 
sworn  never  to  touch  it  again." 

"  That's  so,"  says  I.  "  I  remember  hearing 
him  swear  that  every  ten  minutes  when  we  first 
come.  But  he's  kind  of  knocked  off  swearing 
lately,  so  I  forgot.  But  I  did  think  you  fellers 
weren't  quite  so  keen  on  the  Natural  Life  business 
as  you  was.  You  ain't  read  the  gospel  for  a  con- 
siderable spell." 

They  both  looked  sheepish  and  guilty. 

"  That's  so,"  says  Van.  "  We  haven't.  But 
we've  been  so  confoundedly  busy,  gunning,  and 
White  Plagueing,  and  so  on,  that  we  haven't  had 


27o  MR.  PRATT 

time.     And  we've  mislaid  the  book.     If  I  knew 
where  it  was  I  should  be " 

"  Here  'tis,  right  on  the  mantelpiece,"  says  I, 
reaching  for  it  and  knocking  off  the  dust.  "  Why 
don't  you  take  a  set  at  it  now  ?  It's  too  foggy  to 
do  much  outside." 

So  they  done  it,  Hartley  reading,  and  Van  lis- 
tening. But  'twas  a  short  session.  When  I  come 
in,  about  fifteen  minutes  later,  the  book  was  bot- 
tom up  on  the  floor  and  the  Twins  was  dealing 
what  they  called  "  cold  hands  "  with  cards,  for  a 
quarter  a  hand. 

That  week  was  when  we  reaped  our  harvest 
from  the  garden.  Two  middling  lean  cucumbers 
and  a  tomatter  that  was  suffering  from  yellow 
jaundice.  They  was  pretty  sick  vegetables,  but 
the  Heavenlies  seemed  to  think  they  was  some- 
thing wonderful.  They  made  more  fuss  over  'em 
than  if  they  was  solid  gold.  And  they  digested  as 
if  they  was,  too. 

News  come  that  Dewey,  the  Sparrow  baby,  was 
sick  with  a  cold  over  to  the  Fresh  Air  School  and 
Eureka  was  worried.  Finally  she  decided  to  go 
over  there  for  a  day  or  so  and  see  to  him.  Lycur- 
gus  would  look  out  for  Pa.  So  she  went  and  me 
and  the  Twins  was  left  alone. 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  271 

The  day  she  went  was  beautiful  and  clear.  Hot 
as  July,  and  not  a  breath  of  wind.  It  acted  to  me 
like  a  weather  breeder,  and  I  said  so ;  but  all  I  got 
for  the  prophesying  was  Van's  calling  me  a  Jere- 
miah again.  He  had  planned  a  gunning  cruise 
for  the  next  day. 

That  night  I  woke  up  about  twelve  o'clock  and 
Marcellus's  old  slab  castle  was  shaking  like  as  if 
it  had  the  palsy.  The  wind  was  roaring  and 
screeching  and  the  rain  was  just  swashing  against 
the  windows.  I  turned  out  and  put  in  a  lively  half 
hour  shutting  blinds  and  making  things  fast. 
Usually  September  is  a  pleasant  month  down  our 
way,  but  sometimes  we  get  a  regular  gale,  and, 
when  we  do,  we  get  all  the  back  numbers  without 
subscribing  for  'em.  I  was  soaking  wet  when  I 
got  to  bed  again. 

Next  morning  'twas  worst  than  ever.  The  bay 
looked  like  a  tortoise  shell  cat  in  a  fit,  just  a  whirli- 
gig of  black  and  white  and  yellow  water.  Scudder 
managed  to  get  across,  but  his  milk  cans  had  upset 
in  the  dory  and  he  said  he  wouldn't  risk  another 
trip  till  she  faired  off  some. 

Along  about  noon  the  tool-shed — the  late  la- 
mented Washy's  boarding  house — blew  down 
with  a  bang.    Then  the  Dora  Bassett  broke  loose 


272  MR.  PRATT 

from  her  moorings  and  drove  into  the  cove  head 
first.  She  was  bound  to  bang  herself  to  flinders 
unless  somebody  got  to  her  quick,  so  out  I  went 
into  the  storm.  I  did  think  maybe  the  Heavenlies 
would  offer  to  turn  to  and  help,  but  they  was 
pitching  half  dollars  at  a  crack  in  the  floor  and  was 
too  busy  to  think  of  anything  else. 

I  had  a  sweet  time  ploughing  through  the  sand 
against  that  wind  and  rain,  and  when  I  got  to  the 
cove  my  job  was  cut  out  for  me.  The  sloop  was 
hard  and  fast  aground  on  the  flat  and  the  tide  was 
coming  in.  She  couldn't  stay  where  she  was,  so  I 
worked  for  two  hours  up  to  my  waist  in  ice  water, 
and  more  a-pouring  on  to  me  from  the  clouds,  get- 
ting her  off  and  made  fast.  The  Twins  did  help 
me  long  towards  the  last  part  of  it.  That  is  to  say, 
they  set  in  an  upstairs  back  window  and  pounded 
on  the  glass  and  made  signs — superintending,  as 
usual.  I  wish  they  could  have  heard  some  of  the 
language  I  hove  back  at  'em.  Then  they'd  have 
realized  how  grateful  I  was. 

I  got  supper  without  changing  my  wet  clothes, 
and  when  I  woke  up  next  morning  I  decided  with- 
out no  argument  that  something  else  had  happened. 
I  was  took  with  the  galloping  rheumatiz — my  old 
trouble — and    couldn't    move,    scarcely,    without 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  275 

howling  same  as  a  dog  with  his  tail  shut  in  a  door. 
The  fire  was  out  —  the  old  chimbley  had  un- 
loaded half  of  its  top  rigging  in  to  the  wind — the 
storm  was  bad  as  ever,  and  there  I  was  laid  up  on 
the  corn-husks.  The  Heavenlies  was  worried. 
Breakfast  was  somewheres  'round  the  next  corner. 

"  Too  bad,  old  man,"  says  Hartley.  "  What 
can  we  do?  " 

"  Do  ?  "  I  answers,  between  yells.  "  I  don't 
care  what  you  do.  Only  don't  bother  me.  Ow ! 
O-o-o-o!  my  shoulder!" 

"  But  what'll  we  do  for  eatables?  "  asks  Van 
Brunt. 

I  liked  them  fellers  first  rate  and  they  knew  it. 
But  now  they  made  me  mad. 

"  Do?  "  says  I.  "  Do?  Why,  scratch  for  your 
living,  same's  I've  had  to  all  my  days  I  Work, 
consarn  you  !  work!  " 

I  said  considerable  many  other  things.  'Twas 
a  sort  of  jerky  talk — I  had  to  stop  every  minute 
to  attend  to  my  shoulder — but  there  was  meat  in 
it.  They  heard  some  plain  truth  that  nothing  but 
rheumatiz  could  have  fetched  out  of  me.  I  didn't 
skip  nothing — leastways  I  tried  not  to.  I  hope  it 
done  'em  good ;  it  seemed  to  help  me  a  heap. 

They  went  to  work,  but  they  was  way  down  in 


274  MR.  PRATT 

the  primer  class  so  far  as  that  branch  of  learning 
was  concerned.  I  could  hear  things  falling  around 
in  the  kitchen  and  a  million  matches,  more  or  less, 
a-scratching,  and  I  judged  that  Hartley  was  trying 
to  build  a  fire.  And  under  my  window  there  was 
the  dickens  of  a  thumping  and  a  most  astonishing 
number  of  cuss  words,  so  I  gathered  that  Van  was 
chopping  wood. 

I  managed  to  hobble  downstairs  about  half  past 
ten,  but  I  was  in  plenty  of  time  for  breakfast.  I 
was  feeling  too  mean  to  have  any  appetite — which 
was  a  mercy,  and  I'm  thankful  for  it.  We  had 
smoked  mush,  Wall  Street  style,  and  fried  eggs 
with  cinders,  and  one  cup  of  coffee  for  three.  But 
that  cup  was  strong  enough — owing  to  Hartley's 
letting  it  bile  for  two  hours — so  nobody  wanted 
any  more. 

The  Twins  was  pretty  well  wore  out  by  this  time, 
•so  neither  of  them  would  wash  dishes.  They 
chucked  'em  into  the  kitchen  sink  and  left  them 
there.  Then  they  put  in  three  or  four  hours  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  and  swearing  at  the 
weather.  I  stayed  in  the  armchair  by  the  fireplace 
and  did  little  or  nothing  but  groan  and  rub  alcohol 
on  my  lame  shoulder.  'Twa'n't  a  joyful  kind  of 
experience,  but  'twas  the  first  real  daytime  rest  I'd 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  275 

had  since  I  got  Naturalized.  And,  I  own  up,  I 
got  a  good  deal  of  comfort  watching  the  Heaven- 
lies  try  to  do  for  themselves. 

Mind  you,  if  the  thing  had  happened  when  they 
first  lit  on  Horsefoot  Bar,  when  they  was  full  of 
simplicity  and  the  love  of  it,  I  cal'late  they'd  have 
stood  it  better.  But  now  they  was  about  sick  of 
the  Island  anyway,  only  one  was  afraid  to  say  so 
and  t'other  dassent.  So  the  more  the  work  piled 
up  the  uglier  they  got. 

Dinner  was  served  at  four  o'clock;  scorched 
eggs  again,  and  coffee.  No  dishwashing.  'Twas 
storming  hard  as  ever  and  the  draft  kept  both 
the  stove  and  fireplace  roaring,  so  more  wood  had 
to  be  chopped. 

"  Martin,"  says  Van  Brunt,  "  go  out  and  cut 
that  wood,  will  you  ?  The  axe  is  by  the  woodpile 
— that  is  to  say,  it's  there  if  this  blessed  cyclone 
hasn't  blown  it  out  to  sea." 

Hartley  was  poking  at  the  stove,  with  his  face 
and  clothes  all  covered  with  ashes. 

"  Cut  it  yourself,"  says  he,  brisk.  "  You're 
doing  nothing." 

"  I  cut  it  before,"  snaps  his  chum.  "  Think 
I'm  a  steam  engine?  " 

He  grabbed  up  the  day-a fore-yesterday's  news- 


276  MR.  PRATT 

paper  and  went  to  reading.  Hartley  poked  at  the 
stove  a  spell  and  then  went  to  the  closet  and  got  a 
cigar.    Van  looked  up  and  saw  him. 

"Hand  me  one  of  those,"  says  he,  motioning 
towards  the  cigar. 

"  There  isn't  any  more.  This  was  the  last  one 
in  the  box." 

"  The  devil  it  is!  And  you  take  it?  Well,  by 
George !  " 

"  Now,  see  here.  I  saw  you  take  four  this  fore- 
noon, and  this  is  only  my  second.    Don't  be  a  prize 

Pig-" 

The  stove  ashes  got  into  his  mouth  and  nose 
just  then,  so  he  had  a  fit  of  sneezing.  When 
'twas  over  he  slammed  the  poker  into  the  corner 
and  went  to  the  window. 

"  Where's  that  idiot  Scudder?  "  he  asks. 

"You  mean  Nature's  Nobleman?"  says  I, 
smooth  and  calm.  "  Oh,  he  won't  show  up  for  a 
day  or  so.  Sea's  too  high  to  risk  his  dory.  Dories 
cost  money." 

Van  sat  up  straight.  "  You're  bluffing,  aren't 
you,  skipper?"  he  asks,  troubled.  "  It  isn't  pos- 
sible that  that  rascal  will  stay  at  home  and  not 
come  near  us." 

"Rascal?"  says  I.     "Rascal?     Oh!  yes,  yes. 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  277 

No,  the  *  rough  diamond '  won't  trust  himself 
afloat  this  weather.  He's  too  expensive  a  jewel 
for  that.    We'll  have  to  do  without  milk." 

11  Milk  be  hanged !  It's  my  mail  I  want.  Why, 
I'm  expecting " 

He  bit  the  sentence  in  two  and  looked  quick  at 
his  partner.  But  Hartley  was  scowling  and  star- 
ing out  of  the  window.  I  guess  he  hadn't 
heard. 

11  That  fireplace  needs  filling,"  says  I,  after  a 
while.  "  It'll  be  mighty  damp  and  chilly  here  if 
the  fire  goes  out." 

"  Why  don't  you  chop  that  wood,  Van?  "  asks 
Hartley,  kind  of  fretful. 

11  Chop  it  yourself.  My  hands  are  blistered 
enough  already." 

"  No  more  than  mine.  That  confounded  stove 
has  fixed  me.  Where  I'm  not  burned  I'm  scraped 
raw." 

Then  there  was  another  spell  of  saying  nothing. 

"  Fire's  most  gone,"  I  suggests,  by  and  by. 

"  Let  it  go,"  says  Van.     Hartley  didn't  speak. 

"  Now  see  here,"  I  says,  decided.  "  I've  got 
the  rheumatiz  and  I  don't  want  to  get  any  more 
cold.  You  fellers  have  pretended  to  think  some- 
thing of  me.     If  you  don't  want  my  remains  on 


278  MR.  PRATT 

your  hands,  and  a  funeral  to  pay  for,  you'll  chop 
that  wood." 

Martin  got  down  from  the  window  seat,  mov- 
ing stiff  and  lame. 

"  You're  right,  Sol,"  says  he.  "  We  are  un- 
grateful beasts.    I'll  chop  that  wood." 

"  Hold  on,  old  man,"  breaks  in  his  chum. 
"  You  sha'n't  be  the  only  game  sport.  I'll  match 
you  for  the  job." 

So  they  matched  cents  and  Van  Brunt  got  stuck. 
He  yanked  on  his  hat  and  coat  and  went  out,  bang- 
ing the  door.  Hartley  tackled  the  cookstove  again. 
'Twas  time  to  be  thinking  of  supper,  if  we  was 
going  to  have  any. 

Van  was  gone  a  long  time  and  he  come  in  soaked 
with  sweat  and  rain  and  broke  up  generally.  The 
wood  looked  like  it  had  been  chewed.  I  cal'late 
they  don't  do  much  chopping  in  the  Street. 

He  slatted  himself  into  a  chair,  wet  clothes  and 
all.  Then  he  commenced  to  cuss  the  Island  and 
everything  that  grew  or  moved  on  it. 

"  What  we  ever  came  to  this  lonesome  fag  end 
of  creation  for,  anyway,"  says  he,  "  is " 

"  What?  "  I  hollers.  "  I  don't  understand  you. 
You  can't  mean — what  place  are  you  talking 
about?" 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  279 

"  This  place.  This  sand-scoured,  blown  out 
Leap  of  desolation.  Ozons  Horsefoot  Bar  Island, 
or  whatever  you  call  it." 

"  Weill "  says  I.  "  Are  you  crazy?  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  I've  heard  you  yourself  say  that  this  bland 
was  all  that's  lovely." 

"  Oh,  shut  up !  "  he  snaps. 

"  Jolliest  old  ark  you  ever  saw,"  I  went  on, 
quoting  from  memory.  "  '  Air  to  breathe,  ver- 
anda to  set  on,  ozone  by  the  keg.  Man  alive,  it's 
'Paradise!'" 

He  ripped  out  an  order  for  me  to  go  some- 
wheres  as  far  away  from  Paradise  as  a  feller  could 
think  of. 

Supper  was  ready  by  seven.  All  we  had  to  eat 
was  a  hunk  of  dry  cornbread  and  two  eggs.  Oh, 
yes !  and  the  tea.  Hartley  biled  some  tea  that  was 
a  kind  of  herb  mush.  Strong  and  thick  enough 
for  a  stick  to  stand  up  straight  in.  And  there 
wa'n't  clean  dishes  to  go  around,  so  some  of  'em 
had  to  be  washed. 

I  was  having  a  fairly  good  time.  Wood  must 
be  chopped  again  and  they  matched  cents.  Blessed 
if  Van  didn't  get  the  short  end,  as  usual.  His 
talk  was  pretty  nigh  pitiful.  It  would  have 
brought  tears  to  a  mule's  eyes;  I  know  it  did  to 


28o  MR.  PRATT 

mine.  The  sight  of  Martin's  upsetting  the  tea- 
kettle and  getting  next  door  to  scalded  was  the 
only  thing  that  comforted  him. 

He  got  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket  and  went  to 
reading  it.  The  envelope  dropped  on  the  floor. 
It  had  printing  on  one  corner  and  Hartley  hap- 
pened to  glance  at  it.  Then  he  tiptoed  up  behind 
his  chum  and  peeked  over  his  shoulder. 

"Ed  Van  Brunt!"  he  sings  out.  "What's 
that  you've  got  there?  " 

T'other  Twin  jumped  and  looked  scared.  He 
stuffed  the  letter  back  into  his  pocket. 

"  It's  nothing,"  says  he,  stuttering.  "  Nothing 
but  an  old  letter." 

"  It's  a  broker's  letter,"  says  Hartley.  "  You 
villain,  you've  been  speculating!  " 

First  off,  Van  Brunt  was  for  denying  every- 
thing. But  'twas  no  use.  His  chum  had  read  the 
letter. 

"  You've  been  trading  in  stocks,"  he  says,  sol- 
emn. "  You,  that  have  sworn  over  and  over 
again  never  to  touch  the  market!     You/11 

"  I'm  mighty  sorry,  Martin,"  begs  Van.  "  It 
was  a  miserable  cheap  thing  to  do.  I  don't  know 
what  you  must  think  of  me,  old  man.  But,  you 
see,  it  got  so  deadly  dull  here,  and  when  I  saw 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  28r 

the  Post  that  day,  it  said  that  Tea  Lead  was  a 
good  purchase.     I  wrote  Smythe  and  he " 

"  Tea  Lead?  "  breaks  in  Hartley.  "  Have  you 
been  buying  Tea  Lead?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have.  I'm  carrying  a  pretty  good  load 
of  it,  too,  worse  luck.  Scudder  has  been  bringing 
my  letters  and  telegrams,  and  now  that  he  doesn't 
come,  why " 

"  Wait  a  minute !  Has  Scudder  been  looking 
out  for  your  wires  and  orders?  " 

11  Yes,  he  has.  Oh,  I've  played  you  mean  and 
low  enough,  Martin.  Might  as  well  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  though  it  will  probably  smash  our 
friendship.  I've  paid  Scudder  three  dollars  a 
day  to  attend  to  things,  and  say  nothing  to  you. 
It's " 

Hartley  didn't  seem  to  hear  nothing  but  the 
last  sentence.     Now  he  interrupted. 

"  Three  dollars!  "  he  says,  low.  "  Three  dol- 
lars !  Why,  the  confounded  grafter's  been  charg- 
ing me  five/  " 

And  there  it  was !  The  cat  out  of  the  bag  and 
both  Heavenly  Twins  tarred  with  the  same  brush. 
That's  what  Nate's  secrets  and  the  talks  behind 
the  barn,  and  all,  had  meant.  Van  Brunt  had 
been  bucking  the  Tea  Lead  deal  ever  since  he  read 


282  MR.  PRATT 

the  Post  that  day,  and  Martin  had  begun  after  his 
row  with  Agnes.  And  both  of  'em  bribing  Nate 
Scudder  to  keep  his  mouth  shut. 

First  they  was  provoked  and  mad  at  themselves 
and  each  other.     Then  they  got  to  laughing. 

"Whew!"  says  Van,  wiping  his  forehead; 
11  you  and  I  came  here  to  rest  and  break  off  from 
business  worry.  And  I've  worried  more  in  the 
last  month  than  I  have  before  since  my  big  deal. 
It's  hard  to  teach  old  dogs  new  tricks,  isn't  it, 
[Martin?" 

"  You're  dead  right,  old  chap,"  says  Hartley. 

They  was  going  to  turn  in  soon  after  this,  but 
when  they  went  upstairs  they  found  the  rain  had 
leaked  in  through  the  ell  roof  and  their  feather 
beds  was  sopping  wet.  Down  they  come  again, 
mad  clean  through  and  calling  Marcellus's  heir- 
loom everything  but  a  nice  place. 

"You'd  better  set  down  and  rest  yourselves  a 
spell,"  says  I.  "  It'll  do  you  good.  I'm  sorry 
I  ain't  been  able  to  help  you  more  to-day,  but 
there's  one  thing  I  can  do ;  I  can  help  you  do  what 
you  call  '  improve  your  minds.'  I'll  read  you 
some  out  of  that  Natural  Life  book.  Hand  it  to 
me,  will  you  ?  " 

Van  jumped  for  the  book.     But  he  didn't  hand 


THE  NATURAL  LIFE  283 

it  to  me.  Not  much!  He  drew  back  his  arm 
and  banged  that  book  into  the  fireplace  so  hard 
that  I  thought  'twould  knock  the  bricks  out  at  the 
back. 

"  Well !  "  says  I,  my  mouth  opening  like  a  clam 
shell.     "  Weill     The  Natural  Life!  " 

"The  Natural  Life  be  d— d!"  says  Edward 
Van  Brunt, 

And  Martin  Hartley  says  "  Amen." 


CHAPTER   XVII 
ACROSS    THE    BAY 

MARTIN,"  says  Van  Brunt,  "  I  guess  it's 
the  only  safe  way.  I'll  go  out  on  the 
next  train." 
We  was  at  the  dinner  table  when  he  said  it. 
*Twas  one  o'clock  of  the  day  after  the  Natural 
Life  sermon  went  up  in  smoke.  The  weather  was 
still  pretty  mean,  the  sky  being  all  clouded  over 
and  the  sea  running  high.  But  it  had  stopped 
raining  and  the  gale  seemed  to  be  petering  out.  I 
was  a  Whole  lot  better  and  was  able  to  turn  out 
and  work. 

I  had  my  hands  full  that  morning,  too.  All 
three  of  us  was  close  to  starvation,  after  twenty- 
four  hours  of  short  rations,  and  it  took  some  time 
to  get  us  filled  up.  Then  I  had  the  pig  and  hens 
to  see  to.  The  poor  critters'  lives  had  been  more 
Natural  even  than  ours — they  hadn't  had  nothing 
to  eat.  The  pig  was  in  particular  trouble.  The 
rain  had  turned  his  pen  into  a  sort  of  lake  and 
he  was  playing  Robinson  Crusoe  on  a  seaweed 

284 


J  CROSS   THE  BAY  285 

island  in  the  middle  of  it.  The  way  he  grunted 
for  joy  when  I  looked  over  the  fence  was  human — 
yes,  sir,  human. 

Scudder  hove  in  sight  about  ten  and  the  Heaven- 
lies  fairly  fell  on  his  neck  when  he  stepped  out  of 
the  dory.  But  they  warn't  so  happy  when  he'd 
spun  his  yarn.  It  seemed  that  the  gale  had  blown 
down  the  telegraph  poles  and  tangled  up  the  wires 
and  no  messages  could  get  through  either  way, 
and  wa'n't  likely  to  for  two  or  three  days. 

'Twas  that  that  upset  the  Twins.  The  Tea 
Lead  market  might  be  tied  up  in  a  knot,  for  what 
they  knew,  and  their  "  friends "  in  the  Street 
might  be  robbing  'em  right  and  left.  I  picked  up 
from  their  talk  that  now  was  the  most  ticklish 
time,  something  about  "  passing  a  dividend,"  or 
the  like  of  that.  So  that's  what  they  argued  about 
at  the  dinner  table;  and  it  was  decided  that  Van 
should  go  to  New  York  right  off,  and  pick  up  what 
might  be  left  after  their  chums  and  the  rest  of  the 
forty  thieves  had  got  through  shaking  the  contri- 
bution box. 

"  I'll  leave  at  once,"  Van  says;  "  and  be  in  town 
to-morrow  morning.  If  all  goes  well  I'll  be  back 
here  next  day.  Meanwhile,  you,  Martin,  can  be 
arranging  matters  with  Scudder." 


286  MR.  PRATT 

He  meant  arranging  for  our  quitting  Ozone 
Island  for  good.  They  was  as  anxious  now  to  get 
out  of  "  Paradise  "  as  they  had  been  to  move  into 
it.  If  I  mentioned  a  word  of  Natural  Life  they 
all  but  threw  things  at  me. 

I  expected  for  sure  that  they'd  lick  Nate  Scud- 
der  for  charging  his  dry-season  rates  for  secret 
keeping.  But  they  never  mentioned  it  to  him. 
When  I  spoke  of  it  to  Van  Brunt,  he  laughed. 

"  Oh,  Scudder's  all  right,"  he  says.  "  He  had 
a  corner  in  secrets  and  squeezed  the  shorts,  that's 
all.  That's  legitimate.  Scudder  has  a  talent  of 
his  own." 

"  Yes,  and  he's  making  it  ten  talents  in  a  hurry, 
like  the  feller  in  Scripture,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  he  doesn't  hide  it  in  a  napkin,  anyway," 
laughs  Van. 

"  No,"  says  I.  "  I  believe  he  uses  one  of  Huldy 
Ann's  stockings." 

About  three  o'clock  we  got  into  the  skiff,  the 
three  of  us,  and  rowed  to  the  main.  'Twas  a  hard 
wet  row.  I  judged  the  gale  wa'n't  all  over  yet. 
We  walked  up  as  far  as  Nate's  and  there  he  was 
waiting  in  his  buggy  to  drive  Van  Brunt  to  the 
Wellmouth  depot.  Martin  and  Van  said  good- 
by  and  had  a  final  pow-wow  over  the  Tea  Lead. 


ACROSS  THE  BAYi  287 

"  Good-by,"  says  I.  M  Ain't  got  any  real  gilt- 
edged  expensive  secrets  you  want  kept  while  you're 
gone,  have  you?  I'd  like  to  squeeze  a  short  or 
two,  myself." 

You  ought  to  have  seen  Nate  Scudder  bristle  up 
and  glare  at  me.  But  his  passenger  only  laughed, 
as  usual. 

"  No,"  he  says,  "  not  a  one.  My  conscience  is 
clear.     But  I  may  unearth  a  few  while  I'm  away." 

Well,  he  did.     But  not  the  kind  he  expected. 

I  had  to  step  into  Nate's  house  to  get  a  few 
eggs.  Our  own  hens  was  too  weighted  down 
under  the  Natural  to  be  working  overtime.  Huldy 
Ann  had  the  remnants  of  a  nicked  blue  set  of  dishes 
that  was  handed  down  from  her  great  aunt  on  her 
grandmother's  side,  and  she  thought  maybe  Hart- 
ley 'd  be  interested  at  a  dollar  a  nick.  It  took  so 
long  to  make  her  believe  he  wa'n't,  that  we  wasted 
an  hour  or  more  there.  When  we  got  to  the  hill 
by  the  beach  'twas  'most  five  o'clock. 

"  The  wind's  hauled  clear  around,"  says  I. 
"  We  ain't  had  all  the  dirty  weather  yet.  This  '11 
be  a  bad  night  in  the  bay." 

Just  then  from  behind  us  come  the  rattling  of  a 
wagon  and  the  thumping  of  a  horse's  hoofs. 
Somebody  was  driving  our  way  like  all  get  out. 


288  MR.  PRATT 

"  Who  in  time — ?  "  I  says.  "  Runaway,  ain't 
it?" 

But  'twas  no  runaway.  In  another  minute,  a 
horse  all  lather,  hauling  a  buggy  all  mud,  comes 
bouncing  over  the  hummocky  road  and  down  the 
hill.     A  girl  was  driving  it. 

"  Whoa ! "  she  screams,  shrill.  The  horse 
stopped  like  he  was  glad  of  the  chance. 

"  Eureka  Sparrow !  "  I  sings  out.  "  What  in 
the  name  of  goodness ?  " 

'Twas  Eureka,  and  the  team  was  the  one  that 
the  Fresh  Airers  had  hired  for  the  season.  The 
girl  looked  as  if  she'd  been  through  the  war.  She 
had  a  shawl  pinned  'round  her  but  it  had  slipped 
down  'most  to  her  elbows,  and  her  hat  was  over 
on  the  back  of  her  neck. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asks.     "Is  Dewey 


"  Dewey's  all  right,"  she  says,  leaning  from  the 
buggy.  "  It's  little  Dennis — Redny.  He's  aw- 
ful sick — and — where's  Mr.  Van  Brunt?" 

"  Gone  to  New  York,"  says  Hartley,  stepping 
up  to  the  wheel.  "What  is  it?  Tell  me  about 
it." 

She  was  almost  crying.  "  The  poor  little 
feller,"  she  says;   "he  was  took  this  morning. 


ACROSS   THE  BAY  289 

Pains,  and  such  suffering.  We  sent  for  Dr. 
Bailey  and  he  was  sick  in  bed  himself.  Then 
James  drove  over  for  Dr.  Penrose,  and  he'd  gone 
up  to  the  city  to  a  medical  society  meeting.  There 
wa'n't  nobody  left  but  that  new  doctor  at  West 
Eastwich,  Doctor  Duncan,  and  nobody  likes  him. 
/  wouldn't  have  him  to  a  sick  cat.  He  says  it's 
appendi — appendi — something  or  other." 

11  Appendicitis?  "  asks  Hartley. 

11  Yup.  That's  what  he  says.  And  he  wants 
an  operation  to-morrow.  And  Miss  Agnes  don't 
trust  him,  and  she's  all  upset.  She  thinks  more 
of  that  boy — !  And  she  sent  me  for  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  and " 

"  Sol,"  asks  Martin,  quick.  "  Is  this  new  doc- 
tor a  good  one?  " 

"  No,  no !  "  says  I.  "If  he  said  I  had  diphthery 
I'd  be  sure  'twas  gout.  And  there  ain't  another 
doctor  nowheres  around." 

"  There's  one,"  says  Eureka,  "  if  we  could  only 
get  him.  Miss  Talford  read  in  the  paper  day 
before  yesterday  that  Doctor  Jordan,  the  big  stun 
geon " 

"  Surgeon,"  says  I. 

"  All  right,  surgeon  then.  He's  at  the  Wapa. 
tomac    House    for    a    week.     But    he    probably 


29o  MR.  PRATT 

wouldn't  come  and  the  telegraph  wires  are  down 
and  nobody  thought  to  write  in  time.  And  that 
Doctor  Duncan  thing,  he  says  he'll  operate  to- 
morrow morning.  If  he  does  he'll  kill  the  boy 
sure,  just  as  he  done  to  Emeline  Macomber's 
child.  What  shall  we  do?  Poor  Miss  Agnes! 
Can't  nobody  help  her?  " 

"  How  can  I  get  to  Wapatomac?  "  asks  Mar- 
tin, sharp  and  quick. 

11  You  can't,"  says  I.  "  Not  in  time  to  get  the 
doctor.  He  must  reach  Eastwich  on  that  morning 
train  or  'twill  be  too  late.  The  last  train  has 
gone  to-night.  There  ain't  another  till  eight 
o'clock  to-morrow.  If  you  took  that  'twouldn't 
reach  Wapatomac  till  ten,  and  that's  no  good." 

We  was  silent  for  a  second.  Then  Eureka 
jumped  up  in  the  buggy  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"  You  can  get  him !  "  she  cries,  her  black  eyes 
snapping  sparks.     "  Oh,  you  can!  " 

"  How?  "  Martin  and  me  said  together. 

She  pointed  towards  Ozone  Island. 

11  The  sailboat!  "  she  said.  "  The  Dora  Bas- 
sett!  Sail  over  in  her.  Then  he'll  come  on  the 
morning  train." 

I  swung  around  and  looked  at  the  waves  and  the 
clouds.     Wapatomac  was   clear  across   the  bay, 


ACROSS   THE  BAY  291 

miles  and  miles  away.  And  a  night  like  this  was 
likely  to  be ! 

"Lord!"  says  I.  "It's  crazy!  We'd  never 
live " 

But  Martin  Hartley  was  already  half  way  to 
the  skiff.  Of  course  he  didn't  know  the  risk,  and 
I  did,  but — well,  there. 

"  I'll  go,"  says  I  to  Eureka.  "  You  head  for 
the  school  fast  as  your  horse  can  travel.  Tell  the 
Page  girl  not  to  let  Duncan  touch  the  boy  till 
the  Jordan  man  comes  or  the  train  comes  without 
him.     You  understand?  " 

"You  bet  you!"  says  she.  "It's  splendid! 
We'll  save  the  boy  and  Mr.  Hartley  will  be  all 
right  with  her.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
wa'n't  here !  " 

She  whirled  the  horse  around  and  off  she  went. 
I  give  one  more  look  at  the  weather  and  then  ran 
after  Hartley.  Save  the  boy!  A  considerable 
bigger  chance  of  not  saving  ourselves.  Well,  my 
school  teacher  always  used  to  say  I'd  be  drowned 
some  day — if  I  wa'n't  hung  first. 

I  had  one  reef  in  when  the  Dora  B asset t  swung 
clear  of  the  outside  point  of  Ozone  Island  cove.  I 
hated  to  take  another,  for  I  wanted  to  make  time. 


292  MR.  PRATT 

But  I  had  to  take  it  afore  we  tacked  at  the  end  of 
the  first  leg.  'Twas  pretty  nigh  a  dead  beat  and 
the  sloop  was  laying  over  till  I  thought  sure  she'd 
fill.  The  waves  was  as  big,  almost,  as  ever  I  see  in 
the  bay,  and  when  one  would  fetch  us  on  the  star- 
board bow  the  biggest  half  of  it  would  shoot  clean 
from  stem  to  stern.  We  was  soaked  afore  we'd 
hardly  started.  It  couldn't  have  been  much  worse 
unless  'twas  the  middle  of  February. 

I  had  the  tiller  and  Hartley  was  for'ard  in  the 
cockpit.  I  was  using  the  mainsail  altogether,  al- 
though later  on  I  did  use  some  of  the  jib  to  help 
her  point  up  to  wind'ard.  There  was  plenty  of 
water  and  would  be  for  hours,  so  I  could  give  her 
the  centerboard  full.  That  didn't  bother  us — 
not  then. 

I  was  too  busy  to  speak  and  Martin  didn't  seem 
to  care  to.  He  set  there,  looking  out  ahead,  and 
when  he  turned,  so's  I  could  see  his  face,  it  was 
set  and  quiet.  And  in  his  eyes  was  the  look  that 
I'd  seen  there  once  afore — the  day  of  the  pig  race. 
I  wouldn't  have  known  him  for  the  reckless,  lazy 
chap  he'd  been  for  the  last  month  or  so. 

The  only  thing  he  said  to  me  at  this  time  was, 
as  I  remember  it,  something  like  this : 

"  I  know  that  Doctor  Jordan,"  he  says.     "  I 


ACROSS   THE  BAY  293 

met  him  at  Cambridge  at  a  football  game.  I  was 
there  at  college  and  father  came  over  for  the  game. 
The  doctor  was  one  of  father's  friends." 

"  That's  lucky,"  says  I.  "  Maybe  that  '11  give 
you  some  pull." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  says  he. 

"  If  he  won't  come,"  I  asks,  "  what  '11  you 
do?" 

"  He'll  have  to  come,"  was  all  the  answer  he 
made. 

Even  this  little  mite  of  talk  meant  hollering 
your  lungs  loose.  The  wind  was  rising  all  the 
time,  the  sea  kept  getting  more  rugged  as  we  got 
where  the  bay  was  wider,  and  the  splashing  and 
banging  was  worse  than  a  waterwheel  working 
double  watches.  After  awhile  I  made  Hartley 
set  side  of  me,  so  that,  when  I  wanted  anything,  I 
could  grab  his  arm. 

This  was  after  it  got  dark.  And  it  got  dark 
early.  Likewise  it  begun  to  rain.  The  storm 
that  we'd  had  for  the  last  few  days  seemed  to  be 
blowing  back  over  us.  Seems  as  if  it  ought  to 
have  rained  and  blown  itself  out  by  this  time,  but 
we  had  proof  that  it  hadn't. 

We  wa'n't  making  scarcely  anything  on  our 
tacks.     The  Dora  Basset? s  a  good  wind'ard  boat, 


294  MR.  PRATT 

too,  but  she'd  fall  off  and  fall  off.  By  and  by  the 
dark  and  rain  got  so  thick  that  I  couldn't  see  the 
shore  lights,  and  I  had  to  run  by  compass  and 
guess.  There  wa'n't  likely  to  be  any  other  blame 
fools  afloat  to  run  into  us,  still  I  gave  Hartley  a 
horn  to  blow  in  case  there  should  be. 

'Twas  lucky  I  did.  Along  about  twelve,  when 
we  was  somewheres  in  the  middle  of  the  bay — off 
Sandy  Bend,  I  should  think — it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  heard  a  toot  in  answer  to  one  of  Hartley's.  He 
heard  it,  too,  I  guess,  for  he  commenced  to  blow 
hard  and  fast.  'Twan't  much  use,  for  any- 
thing that  was  to  wind'ard  of  us  wouldn't  have 
heard  a  sound.  And  we  only  heard  that  one, 
I  judge,  as  the  noise  was  blown  past  us  down 
the  gale.  We  listened  and  listened,  but  no  more 
come. 

All  at  once  we  both  yelled.  Out  of  the  muddle 
of  rain  and  black  comes  poking  a  big  jibboom  and 
a  bowsprit.  Next  minute  a  two-master,  with  only 
a  jib  and  reefed  fo'sail  set,  went  booming  by  just 
under  our  stern.  I  could  see  a  wink  of  her 
for'ard  lights,  and  a  glimpse  of  a  feller  holding  a 
lantern  by  her  rail  and  staring  down  at  us.  His 
face  was  big-eyed  and  scared.  I've  wondered 
since  how  ours  looked  to  him.     All  the  rest  was 


ACROSS  THE  BAY  295 

black  hull  and  waves  and  roaring.  A  mackerel 
boat  trying  to  run  into  Naubeckit  Harbor,  I  guess 
she  was.  I  cal'late  the  afternoon  lull  had  fooled 
'em  into  trying. 

We  didn't  say  nothing.  Only  Hartley  looked 
up  at  me  and  grinned.  I  could  see  him  in  the 
lantern  light.  I  shook  my  head  and  grinned 
back. 

All  the  time  I  kept  thinking  to  myself,  "  Sol 
Pratt,  you  old  gray-headed  fool,  this  is  your  final 
bust  of  craziness.  You  can't  make  it;  you  knew 
afore  you  started  you  couldn't.  You'll  be  in 
among  the  shoals  pretty  soon  and  then  you  and  the 
Dora  Bassett  '11  go  to  smithereens  and  cart  that 
poor  innocent  city  man  with  you.  He  don't  know 
that,  but  you  do.  And  all  on  account  of  a  red- 
headed little  toughy  from  the  back  alleys  of  New 
York,  and  a  girl  that  ain't  none  of  your  relations. 
You  deserve  what's  coming  to  you." 

And  yet,  even  while  I  was  thinking  it,  I  was  glad 
I  was  making  the  try.  Glad  for  Redny's  sake; 
particular  glad  on  account  of  what  it  might  mean 
to  Martin  and  Agnes;  and  glad,  too,  just  out  of 
general  cussedness.  You  see,  'twas  like  a  fight; 
and  there's  a  heap  of  satisfaction  once  in  a  while  in 
a  real  old-fashioned,  knock  down  and  drag  out, 


396  MR.  PRATT 

rough  and  tumble  fight — that  is,  when  you're 
fighting  for  anything  worth  the  row. 

The  storm  kept  on ;  seemed  as  if  'twould  never 
let  up.  And  we  kept  on,  too,  three  reefs  in  by  this 
time,  and  the  jib  down.  And  with  every  tack  I 
cal'lated  we  was  making  better  headway  towards 
the  bottom  than  anywheres  else.  I  couldn't  see 
nothing  to  get  my  bearings  from,  and  hadn't  no 
idea  where  we  was,  except  the  general  one  that,  up 
to  now,  and  by  God's  mercy,  we  was  afloat. 

Then,  at  last,  the  gale  begun  to  go  down.  A 
landsman  wouldn't  have  noticed  the  change,  but  I 
did.  It  stopped  raining,  and  the  wind  was  easing 
up.  By  and  by  the  haze  broke  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Middle  Ground  light,  almost  abreast 
of  us.  I  unbuttoned  my  ileskin  jacket  and  looked 
at  my  watch.  Half-past  two,  and  only  three- 
quarters  of  the  way  to  Wapatomac.  We'd  been 
eight  hours  and  a  half  coming  a  distance  that  I've 
made  over  and  over  again,  in  that  very  sloop, 
in  less  than  three.     Hartley  caught  my  sleeve. 

"Will  we  get  there?"  he  shouts.  His  face 
was  all  shining  with  the  wet  and  his  hair  was  too 
heavy  with  water  even  to  blow  in  the  wind. 

"  Don't  know,"  I  hollers  back.     "  We'll  try." 

He  nodded.     The  clearing  of  that  haze  had 


J  CROSS   THE  BAY  297 

helped  me  considerable.  I  could  sight  my  marks, 
the  lights,  now,  and  we  made  faster  time. 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  a  fortnight  more, 
come  the  first  streak  of  gray  daylight.  The  clouds 
was  breaking  up  and  it  would  be  a  nice  day  later 
on,  I  judged.  But  there  was  a  living  gale  still 
blowing  and  the  waves  was  running  savage  over 
the  shoals  ahead.  The  channel  was  narrowing  up 
and  I  had  to  watch  out  every  second.  I  sent  Hart- 
ley amidships  to  tend  centerboard. 

We  beat  in  through  Long  Point  Reach.  The 
life-saving  station  is  on  the  Point,  just  abaft  the 
lighthouse.  I  see  the  feller  in  the  station  tower 
open  the  window  and  lean  out  to  watch  us.  I  cal- 
'late  he  wondered  what  asylum  had  turned  that 
pair  of  lunatics  loose. 

Past  the  Point,  and  now  we  come  about  for  the 
run  afore  the  wind  up  the  narrows.  Wapatomac 
village  was  in  plain  sight. 

14  With  any  sort  of  luck,"  says  I,  "  we'll  be 
alongside  the  dock  by  quarter-past  five.  The  down 
train  leaves  at  twenty-five  minutes  to  eight.  You 
can  thank  your  stars,  Mr.  Hartley." 

'Twas  a  pretty  cock-sure  thing  to  say,  and  I 
ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  crow  afore  we 
was  out  of  the  woods.    But  we'd  come  through  so 


298  <MR.  PRATT 

far  enough  sight  better  than  a  reasonable  man 
could  expect. 

The  narrows  is  a  wicked  place.  The  channel 
is  fairly  straight,  but  scant  width,  and  on  each  side 
of  it  is  a  stretch  of  bars  and  rips  that  are  bad 
enough  in  decent  weather.  Now  they  was  as  good 
an  imitation  of  as  salt-water  Tophet  as  I  want  to 
see.  Strip  after  strip  of  breakers,  with  lines  of 
biling,  twisting  slicks  and  whirlpools  between. 
And  the  tide  tearing  through. 

I  sent  Hartley  for'ard  to  look  out  for  shoals. 
He  had  one  knee  on  the  edge  of  the  cabin  roof  and 
was  climbing  up,  when  I  happened  to  glance  astern. 
There  was  an  old  "  he  "  wave  coming — a  regular 
deep  water  grayback. 

"  Look  out !  "  I  yells.     "  Stand  by !  " 

That  wave  hit  us  like  a  house  tumbling  down. 
I'd  braced  myself  and  was,  in  a  way,  ready  for  it, 
but  Hartley  wa'n't.  He  was  knocked  for'ard  on 
his  face.  Then,  as  the  bow  jumped  up,  he  was 
chucked  straight  backwards,  landing  on  his  shoul- 
der and  left  arm  against  the  centerboard  well.  He 
turned  a  full  somerset  and  his  feet  knocked  mine 
from  under  me.  Down  I  went  and  the  tiller  was 
yanked  out  of  my  hands. 

Waves  like  that  hunt  in  droves,  generally  speak- 


ACROSS  THE  BAY  299 

ing.  The  next  one  was  right  on  schedule  time. 
Up  we  went,  and  sideways  like  a  railroad  train. 
Then  down,  "  Bump !  "  on  the  bottom. 

Up  again,  and  down.     "  Thump !     Crunch !  " 

That  time  we  struck  with  all  our  heft.  The 
Dora  Bassett  shook  all  over.  She  riz,  still  shak- 
ing, and  the  next  wave  threw  her  clean  over  the 
bar.  We  was  in  deep  water  for  a  minute,  but 
just  a  little  ways  off  was  another  line  of  breakers. 
And  astern  was  the  rudder,  broke  clean  off,  and 
floating  away. 

'Twas  no  time  for  fooling.  Hartley  got  to  his 
knees,  white,  and  holding  his  left  arm  with  his 
right  hand.  I  jumped  and  cast  off  the  sheet.  She 
floated  then  on  a  more  even  keel.  Then  I  yanked 
loose  the  oar  from  its  cleats  alongside  the  rail 
and  got  it  over  the  stern  to  steer  with. 

This  got  her  under  control,  and  down  the  lane, 
between  them  two  lines  of  breakers,  we  went,  me 
with  the  sheet  in  one  hand,  the  oar  braced  under 
t'other  arm,  and  the  three-reefed  mainsail  well  out. 
The  cockpit  was  half  full  of  water. 

The  lane  of  deep  water  narrowed  up  ahead  of 
us  and  there  was  a  kind  of  gate,  as  you  might 
say,  at  the  end.  Hartley  looked  at  me  and  I  at 
him. 


3oo  MR.  PRATT 

"  Can  you?  "  he  asks.  He  was  white  as  paper, 
but  not  from  being  scared  I  was  sure.  His 
left  arm  hung  down  straight  and  he  kept  rub- 
bing it. 

"  Lord  knows,"  I  says.     "  Are  you  hurt?  " 

He  didn't  answer;  just  shook  his  head.  On 
went  the  Dora  Bassett.  Bless  the  old  girl's  heart ! 
She  was  doing  her  best  to  pull  us  through. 

The  gate  was  just  in  front  of  our  nose.  I  set 
my  teeth  and  headed  her  for  the  middle  of  it.  A 
jiffy  more,  and  the  crazy  breakers  jumped  at  us 
from  both  sides.  Their  froth  flew  over  us  in 
chunks.  Then  we  was  through,  and  I  fetched  my 
first  decent  breath. 

We  was  in  a  kind  of  pond  now,  where  we  had 
elbow  room. 

Martin  looked  astern.  "  Here  comes  a  boat," 
says  he. 

'Twas  the  lifeboat  from  the  station.  They'd 
seen  our  trouble  and  was  coming  full  tilt.  I  hadn't 
ever  been  took  off  my  own  boat  by  no  life-savers, 
and  I  wa'n't  going  to  begin. 

"  Heave  to !  "  hails  the  crew  cap'n  from  the 
boat.     "  We're  coming  to  take  you  off." 

I  didn't  answer. 

"  Heave  to!  "  he  yells  again.     "  Heave  to!  " 


ACROSS   THE  BAY  301 

I  turned  my  head  a  little  ways. 

II  Go  home  and  get  your  breakfast,"  I  sings  out. 
"  We're  busy." 

They  kept  on  for  a  ways,  and  then  they  give  it 
up.  I  ran  two  or  three  more  of  them  lanes  and 
then,  when  I  had  the  chance,  I  dropped  my  main- 
sail and  histed  the  jib.  And  with  that  jib  and  the 
oar  I  picked  my  way  for  another  spell,  in  and  out 
and  betwixt  and  between.  At  last  we  slid  past 
the  Wapatomac  breakwater  and  up  to  the  wharf. 
A  nice  piece  of  work  for  anybody's  boat,  if  I  do 
say  it. 

Hartley  seemed  to  think  so,  too,  for  says  he, 
"  Skipper,  that  was  beautiful.     You're  a  wonder." 

"  Twenty  minutes  of  six,"  says  I.  "  We're  on 
time." 

There  was  an  early-bird  lobsterman  on  the 
wharf,  come  down  to  see  how  many  of  his  pots 
had  gone  adrift  in  the  night.  He  stood  and  stared 
at  us. 

"  God  sakes!  "  says  he.  "  Where' d  you  come 
from?" 

11  Wellmouth,"  says  I,  making  fast  to  a  ring 
bolt. 

"  In  her?  "  he  says,  pointing  to  the  sloop.  "  la 
this  gale?     Never  in  the  world!  " 


3o2  MR.  PRATT 

"All  right.  Then  we  didn't."  I  hadn't  no 
time  to  waste  arguing. 

"  Good  land  of  love !  "  he  says,  kind  of  to  him- 
self.    "  Say!  she  must  be  something  of  a  boat." 

I  looked  at  the  poor  old  Dora  Bassett.  Rudder 
gone  centerboard  smashed,  rail  carried  away,  and 
hull  nigh  filled  with  water. 

"  She  was"  says  I.     "  Considerable  of  a  boat." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 
POOR  REDNY 

HARTLEY  had  climbed  on  the  wharf  and 
now  he  was  heading  for  the  village.  I 
got  the  sloop  fast,  after  a  fashion,  and 
then  run  over  and  caught  up  with  him.  He  was 
walking  with  long  steps  and  looking  straight 
ahead.  His  left  fist  was  in  the  side  pocket  of  his 
jacket  and  his  face  was  set  and  pale  under  the  tan. 
I  happened  to  bump  into  him  as  I  come  alongside, 
and  he  jumped  and  gave  a  little  groan. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  arm  of  yours?  M 
I  asked,  anxious.  He'd  stopped  for  a  second  and 
was  biting  his  lips  together. 

11  Nothing,"  he  says,  short.  "  Bruised  a  lit- 
tle, I  guess.     Where's  the  hotel?  " 

"  Up  the  main  road  a  piece.  That's  it,  on  top 
of  the  hill." 

"  Come  on  then,"  says  he,  walking  faster  than 
ever. 

We  went  through  Wapatomac  village  like  we 
303 


3o4  MR.  PRATT 

was  walking  for  money.  Some  of  the  town  folks 
was  just  getting  up,  and  you  could  see  smoke  com- 
ing from  kitchen  chimneys  and  window  shades 
being  hoisted.  Once  in  a  while,  where  the  fami- 
lies was  particularly  early  risers,  I  smelt  fried 
potatoes  cooking  for  breakfast;  them  and  smoked 
herring.  In  the  center,  by  the  post-office,  the  fel- 
ler that  keeps  the  market  was  just  taking  down  his 
store  shutters.     He  looked  at  us  kind  of  odd. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  says.  "  Going  to  fair  off 
at  last,  ain't  it?" 

"  Guess  likely,"  says  I,  keeping  on. 

"You  been  on  the  water,  ain't  you?"  he  asks. 
"  Get  caught  down  to  the  Point?  " 

Long  Point's  a  great  place  for  Wapatomac  folks 
to  go  on  clamming  and  fishing  trips.  I  suppose  he 
thought  we'd  been  out  the  day  afore,  when  it 
cleared  that  time,  and  had  had  to  put  in  at  the 
station  over  night.  We  must  have  looked  like 
we'd  been  through  the  mill.  Both  of  us  was  sop- 
ping wet,  and  I  had  on  rubber  boots  and  a  sou- 
'wester. I'd  thrown  off  my  ileskin  coat  at  the 
wharf. 

I  didn't  stop  to  explain.  I  had  to  save  my 
breath  to  keep  up  with  Martin.  The  nigher  he 
got  to  the  hotel  the  faster  he  walked. 


POOR  REDNY  305 

The  Wapatomac  House  is  about  the  toniest 
summer  place  on  our  part  of  the  coast.  A  great 
big  building,  with  piazzas  and  a  band  stand,  and 
windows  and  wind-mills  and  bowling  alleys  till 
you  can't  rest.  We  turned  in  between  the  stone 
posts  at  the  end  of  the  driveway  and  went  pound- 
ing across  the  lawns  and  flower  beds. 

There  was  a  sleepy-looking  clerk  behind  the 
desk  in  the  big  hall.  Nobody  else  was  in  sight, 
and  the  whole  outfit  of  empty  chairs  and  scattered 
newspapers  had  that  lonesome  look  of  having  been 
up  all  night.  Oh,  yes!  and  there  was  a  colored 
man  mopping  the  floor. 

Hartley  went  up  to  the  desk,  leaving  muddy  foot 
marks  right  where  the  darkey  had  been  scrubbing. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  says  to  the  clerk.  "  Doc- 
tor Jordan,  of  Providence,  is  one  of  your  guests, 
isn't  he?" 

The  clerk  put  down  the  book  he  was  reading 
and  looked  us  over.  He  done  it  deliberate  and 
chilly,  same  as  hotel  clerks  always  do.  If  there's 
any  one  mortal  that  can  make  the  average  man  feel 
like  apologizing  for  living  without  a  license,  it's 
a  slick,  high  collared,  fancy  shirt-bosomed  hotel 
clerk. 

"  What?  "  says  the  clerk,  frosty  and  slow. 


3o6  MR.  PRATT 

"  Doctor  Jordan,  of  Providence.     Is  he  here?  " 

His  Majesty  looked  at  his  book  again  afore  he 
answered.  Then  he  put  his  thumb  between  the 
pages  to  mark  the  place,  and  condescends  to  drawl 
out: 

11  What  do  you  want  with  him?  " 

For  once  he'd  made  a  mistake.  There  are 
times  when  it  ain't  wise  to  judge  a  feller  by  his 
general  get-up.  Martin  stiffened,  and  he  spoke 
clear  and  sharp. 

"  Answer  my  question,  if  you  please,"  says  he. 
"  Is  the  doctor  here?" 

II  No,  he  ain't." 
"Where  is  he?" 
"  Gone." 

I  felt  sick.  Maybe  Hartley  did  too,  but  he 
didn't  show  it  . 

"  Where  has  he  gone?  "  he  asks. 

II I  don't  know  that  I've  got  to " 

"  /  know.  And  for  your  own  good,  my  friend, 
I  advise  that  you  tell  me.  Where  is  Doctor  Jor- 
dan?" 

The  Emperor  come  down  off  his  throne  a  little. 
I  cal'late  he  figgered  that  'twas  good  policy. 

"He's  gone  to  Brantboro,"  he  says.  "He 
went  yesterday  morning  and  he's  to  leave  there 


POOR  REDNY  307 

for  Boston  this  forenoon.  Then  he's  going  to 
Bar  Harbor  for  the  rest  of  his  vacation.  Any- 
thing else  you'd  like  to  know?  " 

This  last  part  was  loaded  to  the  gunwale  with 
sarcasm. 

"  Yes,"  says  Hartley  emphatic.  "  Where  is 
the  Doctor  staying  in  Brantboro?" 

"  Cold  Spring  House.  Want  to  know  what  he 
pays  for  his  room?  " 

Martin  didn't  answer.  He  walked  to  the  door. 
I  stopped  for  a  jiffy. 

11  See  here,  my  smart  aleck,"  says  I  to  the  clerk, 
"  you'll  have  some  more  fun  from  this  later  on, 
when  your  boss  hears  of  it.  Do  you  know  who 
'tis  you've  been  sassing?  That  young  man  is  John 
D.  Vanderbilt  of  New  York." 

There  is  some  satisfaction  in  a  first-class  lie. 
It  done  me  good  to  see  that  clerk  shrivel  up. 

Martin  was  calling  to  me.  "  Sol,"  he  asks, 
like  a  flash,  "  how  can  I  get  to  Brantboro?  " 

"  You  can't — in  time  to  catch  that  morning 
train.  Brantboro's  ten  mile  off,  and  the  train  that 
gets  here  at  twenty-five  minutes  of  eight,  leaves 
there  at  seven-fifteen.  That  was  the  one  we  was 
to  have  the  doctor  on.     And  it's  past  six  now." 

He  spun  around  on  his  heel.     "  Is  the  telegraph 


3o8  MR.  PRATT 

line  to  Brantboro  working?"  he  asked  the 
clerk. 

"No,  sir!  no,  sir."  My!  but  he  was  polite. 
"  I'm  sorry  to  say  not,  sir." 

"  Can  I  get  a  horse  here?  " 

"  The  livery-stable  is  right  around  the  corner ; 
but  I  don't  think " 

We  was  at  that  livery-stable  in  less  than  two 
shakes.  The  feller  that  took  care  of  the  horses 
and  slept  in  the  stable  loft  was  up  and  sweeping 
out. 

"  Have  you  got  a  horse  that  will  take  me  to 
Brantboro  in  half  an  hour?  "  asks  the  Twin. 

The  feller  stared  at  him.  "  Be  you  crazy?  " 
says  he. 

Martin  didn't  answer.  "  Whose  machine  is 
that?"  he  asks. 

He  was  pointing  to  a  big  automobile  in  the 
stable.  A  great  big  red  thing,  with  a  shiny  painted 
hull  and  nickel-plated  running  rigging. 

"  Mr.  Shearer's.  He's  away  for  a  week  and 
we're  keeping  it  for  him." 

"Can  I  hire  it?" 

The  feller's  mouth  fell  open  like  'twas  on  hinges. 

"Hire  it?  Hire  Mr.  Shearer's  automobile?" 
says  he,     "  Well,  I'll  be  darned !  " 


POOR  REDNY  309 

"Where's  your  employer?"  asks  Hartley, 
quick. 

"Hey?" 

"  Your  boss! "  I  sings  out,  dancing  up  and 
down.  "  For  the  land  sakes  wake  up !  Where 
is  he?" 

"  In  the  house,  I  guess.     Where  do  you " 

We  met  the  livery-stable  owner  just  coming 
out  of  his  kitchen  with  a  pan  of  leavings  for  the 
pig.  He'd  just  turned  out.  I  knew  him;  his 
name  was  Ben  Baker.  Martin  went  at  him  hot- 
foot, speaking  in  short  sentences. 

"  I  want  to  hire  that  auto  in  your  stable,"  he 
says.  "  I  must  get  to  Brantboro  before  seven 
o'clock.     I'll  pay  any  price.     But  I  must  have  it." 

Then  there  was  more  arguing.  Baker  said  no. 
Was  we  crazy?  He  couldn't  let  another  man's 
auto  to  the  Almighty  himself.  And  Mr.  Shearer's 
auto,  of  all  things !  Why,  Shearer  would  kill  him. 
And  so  forth  and  so  on. 

But  Hartley  kept  cool.  He  must  have  the  ma- 
chine. He'd  be  responsible  for  damages.  He 
explained  about  the  doctor. 

"  I'll  pay  you — so  and  so,"  says  he.  Never 
mind  the  price  he  offered.  It  was  so  big  that  I 
wouldn't  be  believed  if  I  told  it.     Baker  didn't 


3io  MR.  PRATT 

believe  it  either  till  Martin  pulled  out  a  roll  of 
bills  and  showed  him. 

"  I'll  buy  the  thing  if  necessary,"  says  he. 
"  But  I'll  have  it.     Come,  skipper." 

"The  shofer's  up  at  Shearer's  house,"  says 
Baker.     "  He " 

"  Never  mind  the  shofer.  I  can  run  it.  Send 
your  man  with  us,  and  I'll  leave  the  machine  in 
his  care  at  Brantboro.  Then  the  shofer  can  come 
after  it.  I'll  write  to  Mr.  Shearer  and  explain. 
Come  on." 

"  It's  all  right,  Ben,"  I  says.  "  He'll  do  all  he 
tells  you,  and  more.  You'll  never  make  a  chunk 
of  money  any  easier." 

Baker  followed  us  to  the  barn,  saying  "  No,"  all 
the  time.  He  kept  on  saying  it  while  the  Twin 
was  getting  up  steam,  or  some  such  trick,  in  the 
auto.  He  said  it  even  after  he'd  got  the  money 
in  his  hand.  The  hired  man  climbed  in  behind. 
Hartley  and  me  was  in  front.  We  chuff-chuffed 
out  of  the  stable  door. 

"  For  heaven's  sake !  "  hollers  Baker,  "  take 
care  of  the  thing.  I  don't  know  what  '11  come  to 
me  for  this  job  when  Shearer  hears  of  it." 

We  got  down  to  the  street.  I  looked  at  my 
watch.     It  was  twenty-five  minutes  past  six. 


POOR  REDNY  3n 

"  Now,  Sol,"  says  Hartley,  "  you  must  help  me 
if  I  need  you.  I  can  use  only  one  hand,  so  you  pull 
whatever  lever  I  tell  you  to.  Hold  your  hair  on. 
We're  going  to  go." 

We  went — oh  yes,  we  went !  I'd  never  rode  in 
a  buzz  cart  afore  and  inside  of  five  minutes  I  was 
figgering  that  I'd  never  live  to  ride  in  one  again. 
Suffering !  how  we  did  fly ! 

Lucky  'twas  early.  We  didn't  meet  a  soul  on 
the  road.  If  we  had  they'd  had  lively  times  get- 
ting out  of  our  way.  Away  ahead  somewheres 
there'd  be  a  house  with  a  dog  scooting  out  of  the 
gate,  his  mouth  open  ready  to  bark.  Next  minute 
we'd  go  past  that  house  like  a  sky-rocket,  and  the 
pup  would  be  digging  a  breathing  hole  through  the 
dust  behind  us.  I  didn't  have  to  pull  a  lever,  for 
we  had  a  clear  field.  Good  thing  I  didn't,  because 
I  was  too  scared  to  know  my  hands  from  my  feet. 
The  stable  man  was  actually  blue.  Next  time  I 
see  Baker  he  told  me  that  the  feller  had  nightmare 
for  a  fortnight  afterwards,  and  they  could  hear 
him  yelling  "  Whoa !  "  in  his  sleep  as  plain  as 
could  be.  And  they  in  the  house  with  the  win- 
dows shut. 

Afore  I  had  time  to  think  straight,  scarcely,  or 
remember  to  say  more  than  a  line  or  two  of  "  Now 


3i2  MR.  PRATT, 

I  lay  me,"  we  was  sizzling  through  Brantboro. 
We  whirled  into  the  big  yard  of  the  Cold  Spring 
House  and  hauled  up  by  the  steps.  Hartley  piled 
out  and  I  followed  him.  We'd  used  up  just 
eighteen  minutes. 

"  Here !  "  says  he  to  the  clerk,  a  twin  brother 
of  the  one  at  Wapatomac;  "  take  this  to  Dr  Jor- 
dan's room." 

He  scribbled  something  on  a  slip  of  paper  and 
chucked  it  across  the  desk.  The  clerk  yelled  for 
a  boy  and  the  boy  took  the  paper  and  lit  out. 
Pretty  quick  he  comes  back. 

"  He  wants  you  to  come  right  up,  Mister,"  says 
he. 

"  Good !  "  says  Martin,  tossing  him  half  a  dol- 
lar.    "  Lead  the  way." 

The  youngster  started  for  the  stairs,  grinning 
like  a  punkin  lantern.  I  flopped  into  a  chair  and 
felt  myself  all  over  to  make  sure  I  hadn't  shook 
no  part  of  me  loose  on  the  trip.  Likewise  I 
watched  the  clock. 

In  ten  minutes  more  the  Twin  comes  downstairs, 
•and  Doctor  Jordan  was  with  him.  The  doctor 
was  a  big  gray-haired  man  with  a  pleasant  face. 
He  looked  as  though  he'd  dressed  in  a  hurry,  and 
he  had  a  traveling  satchel  in  his  hand. 


POOR  REDNY  313 

"I'll  send  you  a  check  for  my  bill  later,"  he  says 
to  the  clerk.     "  All  ready,  Mr.  Hartley." 

We  went  out  to  the  automobile.  Martin  started 
her  up  and  we  whizzed  for  the  depot. 

"  Great  Scott!  "  says  the  doctor,  "  I  feel  as  if 
I  had  been  pulled  out  of  bed  by  the  hair.  Nobody 
but  your  father's  son  could  do  this  to  me,  Hartley. 
Have  you  fellers  fed  yet?  " 

The  Twin  was  too  busy  with  the  steering  wheel 
to  answer.     I  done  it  for  him. 

"No,  sir,"  says  I;  "not  since  yesterday  noon. 
Nor  slept  since  night  afore  last." 

Martin  run  the  automobile  into  one  of  the  horse 
sheds  by  the  depot.  Then  he  passed  the  stable 
man  the  bill  that  happened  to  be  on  the  outside  of 
his  roll.  'Twas  a  tenner,  for  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  it. 

"  Here,"  he  says;  "  take  this  and  wait  here  till 
the  shofer  comes  for  the  machine.  Well,  skipper, 
we're  on  time,  after  all." 

So  we  was,  and  ahead  of  it.  We  waited  on  the 
depot  platform.  I  noticed  that  Hartley  wa'n't 
saying  mucn.  Now  that  the  excitement  was  over, 
he  seemed  to  me  to  be  mighty  quiet.  Once,  when 
he  walked,  I  thought  he  staggered.  And  he  was 
awful  white. 


3i4  MR.  PRATT 

"  Sol,"  he  says  to  me,  just  as  the  train  hove  in 
sight;  "  you  needn't  come  with  us,  unless  you  want 
to.  Maybe  you'd  like  to  stay  and  attend  to  your 
boat." 

I  looked  at  him.  "  No,"  says  I.  "  I'm  going 
to  see  it  through.     The  boat  can  wait." 

I  had  to  give  him  a  boost  up  the  car  steps.  As 
he  got  to  a  seat,  he  staggered  again. 

II  Skipper,"  he  says,  quiet  and  with  little  stops 
between  words,  "  I'm — afraid — you'll — have — to 
— look — out  for  the  doctor.  I'm  believe  I'm 
going — to — to — make  a  fool  of  myself." 

And  then  he  flops  over  on  the  cushions  in  a 
dead  faint. 

Doctor  Jordan  was  at  him  in  a  second. 

"  It's  his  arm,  I  guess,"  says  I.  "  He  bruised 
it  aboard  the  sloop." 

The  doctor  pulled  up  Hartley's  coat  sleeve  and 
felt  of  the  arm. 

"  Bruised  it!  "  he  says.  "  I  should  say  he  did. 
The  arm  is  broken." 

Now  you  can  bet  that  Martin  Hartley  wa'n't 
the  only  sick  man  aboard  that  train  just  then. 
There  was  another  one  and  he'd  been  christened 
Solomon.  When  I  heard  that  doctor  say  that  the 
Twin's  arm  was  broken  I  give  you  my  word  I 


POOR  REDNY  315 

went  cold  all  over.  Think  of  the  grit  of  the  feller 
— the  clean  up  and  down  grit  of  him !  Rampaging 
around,  running  automobiles  and  chasing  doctors, 
and  all  that  with  a  broken  arm.  And  never  even 
mentioning  it.  I  took  off  my  hat  to  that  New 
Yorker.  Crazy  or  not  he  could  have  my  vote  for 
any  job  from  pound-keeper  to  President. 

I  wa'n't  much  good,  but  Doctor  Jordan  was  a 
whole  team  and*  the  dog  under  the  wagon.  He 
sent  me  for  the  conductor  and  between  us  we  got 
Hartley  into  the  baggage  car  and  away  from  the 
crowd  of  passengers. 

Then  we  rigged  up  a  kind  of  bed  for  him  on  a 
pile  of  trunks  and  the  doctor  went  to  work. 

He  got  Martin's  coat  off  and  his  shirt-sleeve  up 
and  had  a  good  look  at  the  arm.  Hartley  opened 
his  eyes  while  the  examination  was  going  on. 

"  Broken,  doctor,  isn't  it?  "  he  asks,  weak. 

"  Yes,"  says  Jordan.  "  Only  a  simple  fracture 
of  the  forearm  though.  We'll  get  off  at  the  next 
station  and  find  a  comfortable  place  for  you." 

But  he  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  Not  much  he 
wouldn't.  He  was  going  to  see  that  that  doctor 
went  straight  on  to  Eastwich.  Said  he'd  had  too 
much  trouble  getting  him  on  that  train  to  let  him 
off  it  now,  even  if  'twas  his  neck  instead  of  his  arm 


3i6  MR.  PRATT 

that  was  cracked.  There  was  considerable  pow- 
wow, but  finally  Jordan  give  in. 

11  All  right,"  he  says.  "  Needs  must  if  the  old 
gentleman  drives.  The  arm  is  in  better  shape 
than  you  deserve,  considering  how  you've  treated 
it.  I'll  make  a  temporary  bandage,  put  you  off 
at  your  home  station,  and  come  back  and  set  the 
bone  as  soon  as  I  can  leave  the  boy.  Hand  me 
that  box  over  there,  conductor,  please." 

With  a  slat  off  a  box  in  the  baggage,  and  pieces 
of  Hartley's  shirt,  he  spliced  that  arm  as  pretty  as 
a  picture.  Then  he  rigged  up  a  sling  made  of  a 
couple  of  handkerchiefs,  and  there  was  the  patient 
in  pretty  fair  shape,  considering. 

When  we  got  to  Wellmouth  the  conductor — a 
mighty  decent  feller,  he  was — held  up  the  train 
while  I  made  arrangements  with  the  driver  of  the 
Old  Home  House  depot  wagon  to  take  Martin  to 
the  hotel.  I  was  for  going  with  him,  but  he  put 
his  foot  down  on  that  plan  in  a  hurry. 

"  No,  sir!  "  says  he.  "  I  want  you  to  see  that 
the  goods  are  delivered.  You  get  Jordan  to  the 
school  on  time  and  find  out  if  there's  anything  else 
you  can  do  to  help  over  there.  Then  you  can 
come  back  if  you  want  to ;  but  don't  you  show  your 
head  around  me  till  the  contract  is  carried  out.     If 


POOR  REDNY  317 

you  do— well,  my  right  arm's  in  pretty  good  con- 
dition yet." 

In  spite  of  the  pain  I  knew  he  was  in  he  man- 
aged to  pump  up  a  grin.  I  grinned  back,  but  there 
was  a  big  lump  just  astern  of  my  swallowing  gear. 

The  train  got  to  Eastwich  on  time,  and  Lord 
James  was  waiting  with  the  team  at  the  depot. 
We  drove  to  the  Fresh  Air  farm  like  we  was  going 
to  a  fire.     Miss  Talford  was  at  the  door. 

"Here's  the  doctor,"  I  says.  "How's  the 
boy?" 

"  The  pain  is  a  little  easier  now,  we  think,"  says 
she.  "  Come  right  upstairs,  Doctor  Jordan.  It 
was  so  good  of  you  to  come.  Agnes  hasn't  slept 
since  he  was  taken  ill." 

I  followed  the  doctor  and  the  Talford  girl  up  to 
the  bedroom.  A  mighty  pretty  room  'twas,  too; 
all  flowered  paper,  and  colored  pictures  and  sun- 
shine.    But  I  didn't  notice  these  things  much. 

Poor  little  Redny!  There  he  laid,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  big  bed,  his  brick  top  shining  against  the 
pillow  and  the  freckles  on  his  nose  like  red  paint 
spots  on  a  whitewashed  wall.  He  knew  me  and 
the  first  thing  he  said  was,  "  Hello,  Andrew  Jack- 
son."    That  was  the  name  I'd  always  called  him. 

Agnes  Page  was  there,  sitting  by  the  bed,  hold- 


3i8  MR.  PRATT 

ing  the  little  feller's  hand.  She  looked  mighty 
hollow-eyed  and  pale.  She  shook  Doctor  Jordan's 
hand  and  thanked  him  for  coming.  She  shook 
mine  too,  and  I  noticed  how  her  hand  trembled. 

The  Duncan  doctor  was  there,  ready  to  begin 
his  carving.  Dried-up  young  squirt,  with  whiskers 
as  scattering  as  corn-stalks  in  the  Ozone  garden. 

"  Er — Doctor  Jordan,"  says  he,  "  awfully 
sorry  you've  been  put  to  all  this  trouble.  Entirely 
without  my  sanction,  I  assure  you.  A  most  simple 
case  of  appendicitis.  I  should  have  operated  im- 
mediately whether  you  arrived  or  not." 

Jordan  went  across  to  the  bed.  He  looked  the 
boy  over,  careful  as  could  be,  thumping  him,  and 
listening,  and  asking  questions  about  where  he  felt 
the  worst,  and  all  that.  After  a  while  he  looked 
at  Duncan,  and  says  he : 

"  The  pain  doesn't  seem  to  be  localized  as  yet." 

11  No— er — not  yet,"  answers  t'other  doctor, 
pompous.  "  But,  of  course,  that's  quite  usual — 
often  the  regular  thing.     Er — yes." 

Jordan  nodded.  Then  he  asked  a  few  more 
questions;  when  the  youngster  was  took  sick,  and 
how  it  begun,  and  the  like  of  that.  Finally  he 
says  to  Redny: 

"  What  have  you  been  eating  lately?  " 


POOR  REDNY  319 

"  Aw,  I  don't  know,  sir.  Miss  Agnes  give  me 
some  jelly  and  some  mush  and  cream  and " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  those  are  what  you've 
had  inside  the  house.  What  have  you  eaten  out- 
side ?  I  noticed  an  orchard  back  of  the  farm  here. 
There  were  some  very  pretty  late  apples  on  the 
trees.     How  do  they  taste?  " 

Redny  looked  worried,  seemed  to  me.  He 
fidgeted  with  the  edge  of  the  bed-spread. 

"  I  ain't  et  only  a  few  of  'em,"  he  says.  "  The 
ones  on  th^  ground  was  wormy,  so         " 

Miss  Agnes  broke  in  here.  "  He  couldn't  have 
eaten  those  apples,  Doctor,"  she  says.  "  I've 
expressly  forbidden  the  children  to  touch  them." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  says  Jordan.  "  But  I've  had 
the  advantage  of  being  a  boy  once  myself.  The 
apples  on  the  ground  were  wormy,  you  say.  How 
were  those  on  the  trees?  And  how  many  did  you 
eat — well,  say  night  before  last?  " 

11  Only  six,"  says  Redny,  beginning  to  snuffle. 
"  I  knocked  'em  down  with  a  rock.     They  was 


"  I  see,"  Jordan  smiled,  quiet,  and  stood  up. 
"  Doctor,"  he  says  to  Duncan,  "  I  wouldn't  oper- 
ate yet  awhile.  He  seems  to  be  much  easier  now. 
I  think  it  will  be  safe  to  wait." 


3ao  MR.  PRATT 

Duncan  bristles  up  and  waved  his  hand,  pomp- 
ous. He  was  going  to  speak,  I  guess,  but  all  at 
once  the  sense  of  what  Jordan  meant  seemed  to 
work  down  through  his  skull.  He  looked  at  me. 
I  was  beginning  to  grin.  Then  he  looked  at  Ag- 
nes and  Margaret;  they  looked  queer,  and  Miss 
Talford's  mouth  was  twitching  at  the  corners.  He 
turned  as  red  as  a  smallpox  flag. 

"  I — I — why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  those 
apples,  boy?  "  he  asks,  sharp. 

"  You  never  asked  me,"  snuffles  Redny.  "  All 
you  asked  me  was  what  I  had  for  supper,  and  I 
told  you." 

"  Green  apples,  hey?  "  says  I,  more  to  myself 
than  anybody  else.  "  Humph !  Well,  they  never 
operated  for  them  when  /  was  a  boy." 

I  went  down  to  the  kitchen  pretty  soon  after 
that.  Eureka  was  there  and  she  and  me  had  a 
big  talk.  Duncan  come  stomping  down  a  little 
later  and  went  out  and  slammed  the  door. 

"  Humph !  "  snaps  Eureka,  bobbing  her  head 
the  way  she  always  done ;  "  he  ain't  going  to  get 
the  chance  to  try  his  tricks  on  that  boy.  Pesky 
thing !  Why  don't  he  run  a  butcher  shop  ?  Then 
he  could  cut  up  and  saw  and  be  happy,  and  nobody 
M  be  killed  except  them  that  was  dead  already." 


POOR  REDNY  321 

By  and  by  Agnes  came  to  the  door  and  called 
to  me. 

"  Mr.  Pratt,"  she  says,  when  her  and  me  was 
in  the  hall  together,  "  how  can  I  thank  you  for 
what  you've  done  for  me  and  for  that  poor  little 
child?" 

"  You  can't,"  I  says,  short.  "  Because  I  ain't 
done  nothing.     It's  Mr.  Hartley  that " 

11 1  know.  Doctor  Jordan  has  told  me  some. 
Please  tell  me  the  rest.  How  is  he?  Is  his  arm 
badly  hurt?  Is  he  suffering?  Do  you  think 
there's  any  danger?  " 

Here  was  my  chance.  And  I  just  spread  my- 
self, too,  now  I  tell  you.  I  spun  the  whole  yarn, 
from  the  time  the  Dora  Bassett  pulled  out  of 
Horsefoot  Bar  cove  to  when  Hartley  was  loaded 
into  the  Old  Home  depot  wagon. 

"  He's  a  brick,  that's  what  he  is,"  says  I,  finally. 
"  And  he  always  was  one.  And  there's  one  thing 
more  I'm  going  to  tell,  now  that  I've  got  my  hand 
in,  Miss  Page.  That's  about  that  business  with 
Washy  Sparrow.  Mr.  Hartley  wa'n't  no  more  to 
be  blamed  for  that  than  a " 

She  stopped  me.  "  Please  don't,"  she  says. 
"  I  know;  Eureka  told  me.  And  Mr.  Pratt,"  she 
adds,  and  her  face  lit  up  like  there  was  a  glory 


322  MR.  PRATT 

inside  it;  "  I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  to  beg  his 
pardon  for  me.  But  will  you  tell  him  that,  as 
soon  as  I  can  leave  Dennis,  I'm  coming  to  Well- 
mouth  to  ask  his  pardon  myself,  and — to  thank 
him?     Tell  him  that,  please." 

Eureka  and  me  drove  back  to  Wellmouth  to- 
gether. If  that  old  buggy  had  been  trimmed  up 
to  match  the  feelings  of  the  two  inside  it  'twould 
have  been  the  gayest  turnout  that  ever  come  down 
the  pike  road.  No  circus  cart  would  have  been 
in  it. 

But  poor  Van ! 


CHAPTER   XIX 
SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX 

1LEFT  Eureka  at  Nate  Scudder's.  She  was 
going  to  have  him  take  his  dory  and  row 
her  over  to  the  Island.  She  was  to  see  to 
things  there  till  I  come.  Dewey  was  all  right  and 
over  his  cold,  she  told  me,  so  she  could  take  up  her 
regular  job  again.  Scudder  was  glad  to  see  us. 
I  don't  know  but  he'd  been  scared  that  his  whole 
gang  of  lodgers  had  cleared  out  and  left  him  in 
the  lurch.  I  told  him  about  the  doctor  chase. 
His  eyes  stuck  out. 

u  Godfrey  scissors!  "  says  he.  "  It  must  have 
cost  that  Hartley  man  a  lot  for  that  automobile." 

"Cost!  "says  I.     "  You  bet  it  did !  " 

"  I  presume  likely  that'll  come  out  of  the  doc- 
tor's bill,  won't  it?" 

"No,"  I  says,  scornful.  "Land  of  Goshen! 
No.     Why  should  it?" 

"  Well,  if  'twas  me  I'd  take  some  of  it  out. 
The  doc  hadn't  no  right  to  be  way  over  to  Brant- 
boro  after  giving  folks  notice  through  the  papers 

323 


324  MR.  PRATT 

that  he  was  to  Wapatomac."  He  thought  a  min- 
ute more  and  then  he  says,  "  Say,  Sol;  don't  you 
cal'late  there's  a  commission  coming  to  us  from 
Ben  Baker?  He'd  never  let  that  auto  wagon  if 
we  hadn't  provided  the  customer." 

Didn't  that  beat  all?  Sometimes  I  think  Nate 
Scudder  '11  rise  up  in  his  coffin  afore  they  bury  him 
and  want  a  commission  from  the  undertaker.  He'll 
never  rest  easy  and  see  all  that  cash  going  to  some- 
body else  when  he's  furnishing  the  center  of  in- 
terest. 

I  found  Martin  planted  easy  and  pretty  com- 
fortable in  an  upstairs  front  room  at  the  Old 
Home.  His  arm  was  hurting  him  some,  of 
course,  but  other  ways  he  felt  better,  having  had 
a  nap  and  somethi  g  to  eat.  He  wa'n't  sick  in 
bed  at  least;  and  that's  how  I  expected  to  find  him. 

I  told  him  the  good  news  from  Redny,  and  it 
pleased  him  'most  to  death.  Then  I  give  him  the 
Page  girl's  message.  He  didn't  say  much,  but 
'twas  plain  to  see  how  he  felt.  I  promised  to  be 
back  next  morning,  and  then  I  said  good-by. 
His  good-by  to  me  was  sort  of  absent-minded.  I 
left  him  smoking  and  looking  dreamy  out  of  the 
window. 

I  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  Ozone  fat  I  couldn't 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         325 

help  stopping  where  they  was  digging  the  cellar 
for  the  new  part  of  the  hotel,  and  looking  for  our 
old  friend  Washy  Sparrow.  He  was  wheeling 
dirt  in  a  wheelbarrow  and  he  seemed  mighty  will- 
ing to  let  go  of  the  handles  and  talk  to  me. 

"  Hello,  Washy,"  I  says.  "  How's  the  stomach 
and  lungs  these  days?  " 

He  groaned.  "  Pratt,"  says  he,  "  I'm  dying 
on  my  feet." 

"  Well,"  I  says,  looking  down  at  his  cowhides, 
"  you'd  ought  to  have  plenty  of  room  to  do  it  in. 
What  are  you  dying  of — dropsy?  You're  five 
pounds  heavier  than  when  I  see  you  last." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Tell  Reky  I'm  doing  my 
best  to  forgive  her,"  he  says.  "  When  I'm  gone 
maybe  she'll  think  of  how  she  treated  me.  Say! 
how  soon's  she  coming  home?  Lycurgus  can't 
cook  fit  to  eat." 

I  told  him  Eureka  'd  be  home  that  night.  It 
seemed  to  give  him  a  little  more  hopes. 

II  When  you  see  Miss  Page,"  says  he,  "  just  tell 
her  I  want  to  talk  to  her,  won't  you?  Tell  her 
I'm  'most  through  with  this  world  and  I  want  to 
speak  to  her  about  providing  for  the  children. 
Ask  her  to  come  over  and  see  me." 

Just  then  the  foreman  yelled  to  him  to  stop 


326  MR.  PRATT 

gassing  and  hustle  that  wheelbarrow  along.  He 
done  it,  surprising  prompt  too,  I  thought.  I 
asked  the  foreman  about  it. 

"  Oh !"  he  says,  "  Mr.  Brown's  give  me  the 
receipt  for  him.  Every  time  he  groans  or  coughs 
I  set  him  to  lugging  stones ;  the  louder  the  groans 
the  bigger  the  rocks.     He's  getting  well  fast." 

I  took  Nate's  dory  and  went  across  to  the  Island. 
Eureka  was  up  to  her  elbows  in  work. 

"  Sakes  alive !  "  says  she.  "  Who's  been  let- 
ting this  house  get  this  way?  The  tea  kettle  bot- 
tom's burnt  out  and  somebody's  been  trying  to  eat 
the  axe.  And  the  beds  are  so  wet  that  the  feathers 
are  beginning  to  grow." 

"  That's  the  Natural  Life,"  I  told  her.  "  The 
Heavenlies  lived  it  for  a  whole  day." 

u  I  thought  they  lived  it  afore  I  come  here  at 
all,"  she  says.  "  Things  was  bad  enough  then, 
but  nothing  like  this." 

"  'Twas  me  that  was  the  Natural  then,"  says  I. 
"  This  last  attack  hit  the  Twins." 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  think  ought  to  live  the 
Natural  Life?  "  she  asks. 

I  said  I  didn't. 

"  Nobody  but  natural  born  idiots,  that's  who." 

"  1  guess  that's  who's  been  living  it,"  says  I. 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         327 

Next  morning  I  went  over  to  see  Hartley.  He 
was  feeling  like  a  new  man.  Doctor  Jordan  had 
been  there  ahead  of  me  and  set  the  arm.  Redny 
was  pretty  nigh  well.  Jordan  had  the  right  cure 
for  green  apple  appendicitis  and  it  worked  tip- 
top. 

I  drove  up  to  the  depot  in  the  Old  Home 
wagon  and  met  Van  Brunt.  He  was  in  fine  spirits. 
The  Tea  Lead  deal  had  been  closed  up — the  Street 
pirates  having  decided  not  to  pass  the  dividend — 
and  the  Heavenly  Twins  had  made  money  by  the 
keg,  I  judged. 

"  How'd  New  York  look  to  you?"  I  asked 
him. 

"Hush!"  says  he.  "Don't  speak  lightly  of 
sacred  things." 

When  he  heard  about  what  had  happened  while 
he  was  away  he  was  the  most  surprised  man  in  the 
county. 

"  Skipper,"  he  says,  grabbing  my  hand,  "  you're 
a  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  You  and  Eureka 
are  the  redeeming  features  of  this  Natural  experi- 
ment. You  pay  the  freight  and  a  large  rebate 
over.  And  Martin!  bully  old  boy!  I  want  to 
see  him." 

Him  and  his  chum  was  shut  up  together  for  a 


¥ 


328  MR.  PRATT 

good  half  hour.  When  Van  come  down  to  the 
porch  he  beckoned  to  me. 

"  Sol,"  he  says,  "  there's  another  question  I 
want  to  ask  you.  Of  course  I  know  that  Martin 
liked  the  boy  and  all  that,  but  that  reason  won't 
quite  do.     What's  the  real  one?  " 

'Twas  a  ticklish  place  for  me.  But  I  couldn't 
see  but  one  way  clear;  that  is,  but  one  way  which 
was  best  in  the  long  run  for  all  hands.  So  I 
spunked  up  and  answered. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  says  I,  "  I  hate  to  say  it, 
but  of  course  you  know  that  your  partner  and  Miss 
Agnes  set  considerable  store  by  each  other  at  one 
time.  And  you  can't  break  off  feelings  like  that 
same  as  you'd  bust  a  piece  of  string.     I " 

He  nodded.  "  All  right,"  he  says.  "  I'm  not 
altogether  a  blockhead.  That'll  do.  I've  been 
sure  of  it,  myself,  for  some  time." 

"  I  understand,"  I  went  on,  "  that  the  reason 
she  give  him  the  mitten  was  on  account  of  his  being 
too  grasping  after  money.  If  she'd  seen  him,  like 
I  have,  just  throwing  it  away  as  if  'twas  shavings, 
I  guess  likely  she " 

He  interrupted  and  looked  at  me  queer. 

"How  did  you  know  that  was  the  reason?" 
he  asks. 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         329 

I'd  put  my  foot  in  it  away  over  the  shoe  laces. 

"  Well,"  I  stammered,  "  you  see  I — that  is, 
'twas  told  to  me — and — course  I  can't  swear " 

"  Who  told  it?  Oh,  never  mind.  I  see.  Dear 
James!  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant. 
Tou've  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  and  gen- 
eral superintendent  and  advertiser  of  all  the  rest. 
Sol,  I  learned  something  when  I  was  in  New  York. 
Considering  all  you've  done  and  know,  I  think 
you're  entitled  to  know  more. 

"  When  I  was  in  God's  settlement  yesterday," 
he  went  on,  referring  to  his  home  town,  I  judged, 
though  I'd  never  heard  afore  that  it  belonged  in 
that  neighborhood,  "  I  met  an  old  friend  of  Hart- 
ley's governor — of  his  father,  I  mean.  This 
friend  had  been  abroad  for  some  time  and  had 
just  returned.  He  spoke  of  Martin,  and  what  a 
fine  fellow  he  was;  to  all  of  which  I  set  my  hand 
and  seal,  of  course.  Then  he  said  that  the  way 
in  which  young  Hartley  had  paid  his  father's  debts 
and  saved  the  family  honor  and  credit  was  one  of 
the  biggest  things  he  knew  of.  I  expressed  sur- 
prise. Then  he  was  surprised  to  learn  that  I 
didn't  know,  being  Martin's  closest  friend,  and 
told  me  the  rest. 

"  It  seemed  that  Hartley  senior  was  heavily  in- 


33o  MR.  PRATT 

volved  when  he  died.  He  had  speculated  and 
his  affairs  were  in  horrible  shape.  Martin  didn't 
know  of  this  until  the  old  gentleman,  on  his  death 
bed,  sprung  it  on  him.  So  then  the  plucky  chap 
started  in  to  save  the  name.  He  arranged  with 
the  creditors — this  man  who  told  me  the  story 
was  one  of  them — for  time,  and  set  to  work.  He 
worked  nights  and  days  and  in  his  sleep,  I  guess. 
He  had  promised  his  dad,  .for  his  mother's  sake, 
not  to  tell  a  soul,  and  he  didn't.  Every  creditor 
was  pledged  to  secrecy.  Even  his  own  mother 
didn't  know  it  to  the  day  of  her  death.  But  he 
paid  dollar  for  dollar  and  broke  down  when  it  was 
over.  That's  why  he  was  willing  to  join  with  me 
in  this  hunt  of  ours  after  the  Natural  Life.  Ag- 
nes' cutting  him  made  him  reckless,  I  suppose. 
And  when  he  was  on  his  feet  again  financially,  he 
lost  interest  in  the  whole  game." 

"  And  now  that  he's  well  and  husky,"  I  says, 
"  her  mistake  about  his  doings  with  the  old  man 
Sparrow  set  him  going  at  it  again.  I  suppose  his 
digging  in  the  hardest  and  keeping  it  quiet  on 
account  of  his  promise,  was  what  made  her  call  him 
a  money  grabber.  I  might  have  known  'twas 
something  like  that." 

11  So  might  I,"  he  says,  "  if  I  wasn't  such  a  care- 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         331 

less,  happy-go-lucky  idiot.  You  see  I  always 
thought  that  the  '  mercenary '  business  was  only 
a  cloak  for  the  real  reason  of  their  breaking  off. 
She  only  took  up  with  me  because  our  people 
wanted  her  to.  I've  been  sure  of  that  for  a  good 
while.  But  why  Martin  didn't  come  to  me  when 
he  was  in  trouble,  instead  of  going  it  alone  like  a 
bull-headed  chump,  is " 

He  stopped  and  went  to  thinking.  I  looked  at 
him  and  I  guess  there  was  a  question  in  my  face, 
for  he  answered  it  without  my  saying  a  word. 

"  Certainly  I  shall  tell  her,"  says  he.  "  When 
is  the  next  train  to  Eastwich?  " 

He  went  to  the  school  that  afternoon,  and 
stayed  at  the  Bay  View  House  over  there  that 
night.  Next  day,  afore  I  left  the  Island,  Hartley 
comes  rowing  over  with  Scudder.  He  was  feeling 
chipper  as  could  be  and,  except  for  the  arm  in  a 
sling,  you  wouldn't  have  known  there  was  anything 
the  matter  with  him. 

About  eleven  or  so  that  forenoon  Eureka  comes 
running  out  to  the  hen-yard  where  I  was.  Her 
face  was  on  the  broad  grin. 

"  They're  coming,"  says  she.  "  The  whole  of 
'em!" 

"Who?" 


332  MR.  PRATT 

"Why  Miss  Agnes  and  Miss  Talford.  Nate 
Scudder  is  rowing  'em  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  is 
along,  too." 

And  so  they  was.  I  could  see  the  dory  half 
way  across  already. 

"Hooray!"  I  sings  out.  "Let's  tell  Hart- 
ley." 

"  Don't  you  dare  tell  him,"  she  orders.  "  He's 
in  the  house.  You  let  him  stay  there.  It's  your 
job  to  meet  that  boat  and  keep  the  rest  of  'em 
out  of  the  way." 

'I  was  at  the  beach  when  the  dory  landed.  Miss 
Talford  and  Van  got  out  first.  Then  comes  Ag- 
nes Page.  She  stepped  up  to  me  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Pratt,"  she  says.  "  I'm 
very  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Same  here,  ma'am,  I'm  sure,"  says  I. 
"  How's  Redny?" 

"Who?  Dennis?  Oh,  he's  almost  well.  We 
left  James  in  charge  of  the  children.  Are  you  all 
well  here?     Is " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  He's  doing  first-rate.  You'll 
find  him  in  the  dining-room." 

She  reddened  up  like  a  climbing  rose-bush  in 
June,  but  she  left  me  and  headed  for  the  house. 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         333 

The  minute  she  stepped  her  foot  on  the  porch, 
that  wise  critter  Eureka  dodged  out  of  the  kitchen 
door.  She  knew  her  business,  that  girl  did,  and 
whether  it  had  come  to  her  by  instinct  or  from 
Home  Comforter  reading  don't  make  an  atom 
of  difference. 

About  twenty  minutes  after  that  I  happened  to 
have  an  errand  in  the  kitchen.  I  made  a  dickens 
of  a  racket  on  purpose  when  I  went  in,  but  'twas 
good  work  wasted.  Hartley  and  the  Page  girl 
was  standing  by  the  parlor  window  looking  out, 
and  didn't  appear  to  hear  a  sound.  They'd  left 
the  doors  open  and  I  could  see  'em.  Martin 
hadn't  only  one  whole  arm,  but  he  seemed  to  know 
what  to  do  with  that. 

Van  Brunt  come  into  the  kitchen  after  a  drink 
of  water.  He  see  the  tableau  in  the  parlor. 
When  we  was  outside  again  he  spoke. 

"  Well,"  he  says,  with  a  kind  of  sigh,  "  that 
settles  it.  And  yet,  by  George!  I'm  glad.  Yes, 
sir;  it's  as  it  should  be  and  I'm  thoroughly  glad 
of  it." 

I  couldn't  think  of  nothing  to  comfort  him,  poor 
feller.  But  I  squeezed  his  hand  hard.  I  guess  he 
knew  what  I  thought  of  him  and  his  self-sacri- 
fice. 


334  MR.  PRATT* 

And  yet,  a  couple  of  hours  later,  when  1 
told  Eureka,  she  didn't  seem  to  think  so  much 
of  it. 

"  Humph !  "  says  she.  "  Self-sacrificing's  all 
.right,  but  you  look  here." 

She  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  to  the  wood- 
shed window.  Down  by  the  cove  on  the  beach 
was  Van  Brunt  and  Margaret  Talford,  walking  up 
and  down  together.  They  was  both  laughing  and 
acting  perfectly  contented. 

Eureka  gave  me  a  nudge  and  a  wink.  "  I  told 
you  I  had  my  ideas  about  him"  says  she. 

The  Fresh  Air  girls  went  back  to  Eastwich  that 
afternoon.  When  they  had  gone  Van  turns  to 
me. 

"And  now,  skipper,"  says  he,  slapping  his 
hands  together  brisk;  "  now  then  for  packing  up, 
and  back,  back  to  little  old  New  York.  '  Oh, 
Uncle  John!  isn't  it  nice  on  Broadway?  '  or  words 
to  that  effect.  " 

They  was  all  going  together;  the  Heavenly 
Twins  and  Lord  James  and  the  Fresh  Air  girls 
and  all  their  tribe.  Redny's  sickness  and  the 
worry  that  it  brought  had  made  Agnes  and  Miss 
Talford  anxious  for  the  city,  where  doctors  was 
plenty  and  green  apples  scarce.     And  the  Twins 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         335 

was  pining  for  what  Van  called  "  the  intoxicating 
degeneracy  of  an  effete "  (whatever  that  is) 
"  civilization." 

We  packed  up.  That  is  to  say,  me  and  Eureka 
packed  up,  while  the  Heavenlies  superintended  and 
enjoyed  themselves.  Scudder's  face,  when  he 
heard  that  his  private  gold  mines  was  going  to 
leave,  was  a  sight  to  see.  But,  after  a  couple  of 
lengthy  interviews  with  the  Twins,  he  seemed  to 
feel  better. 

"  I  shall  miss  'em  terrible,"  he  says  to  me.  "  But 
this  world's  a  valley  of  dry  bones,  anyhow,  ain't  it, 
Pratt?" 

"  Valley  of  dry  bones,"  and  "  fleeing  to  the  ark 
of  safety  "  was  his  pet  words  when  he  testified  in 
prayer-meeting. 

"  I  guess  so,"  I  says.  "  Still  I  wouldn't  kick  if 
I  had  your  knack  of  getting  double  price  per  pound 
for  the  bones.  You've  managed  to  fertilize  with 
'em  pretty  well,  Nate." 

He  fetched  a  sigh.  "  They're  such  nice  oblig- 
ing fellers,"  he  says.  "  And  such  good  hands  at 
business.  Never  no  beating  down  nor  jockeying 
for  a  trade.  I  always  feel  perfectly  safe  in  deal- 
ing with  'em." 

I  cal'lated  that  statement  wa'n't  exaggerated. 


336  MR.  PRATT 

Most  likely  a  shark  feels  the  same  way  about 
dealing  with  a  school  of  porgies. 

Nate  had  agreed  to  take  back  the  hens  and  the 
pig,  as  an  accommodation.  He  was  to  pay  three 
dollars  for  the  hog  and  the  fowls  was  hove  into  the 
scales  for  good  measure.  There  was  a  lease  of 
the  Island,  too,  that  had  to  be  canceled.  Them 
simple-minded  Tea  Leaders  had,  in  the  first  fever 
of  Naturalness,  signed  a  lease  on  Horsefoot  Bar 
to  run  till  November.  Now  that  their  pulse  was 
normal  again  they  wanted  to  break  that  lease,  and 
the  job  was  considerable  more  painful  and  expen- 
sive than  breaking  Hartley's  arm  had  been.  But 
Nate  let  'em  break,  though  I  thought  he'd  break 
them  afore  he  got  through. 

Him  and  Eureka  and  me  had  a  good  many  talks 
about  the  Twins  when  we  was  alone  together. 
The  last  of  these  talks  we  had  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  day  afore  the  grand  final  emigration.  Lord 
James  was  over  on  an  errand  and  he  was  in  the 
kitchen  with  us.     Eureka  begun  the  talk. 

"  I  ain't  quite  made  up  my  mind  whether  they're 
really  crazy  or  not,"  she  says,  referring  to  the 
Heavenlies.  "  They  don't  act  much  more  loony 
than  some  of  the  earls  and  such  in  books.  And 
yet  they  must  be  some  out  of  their  minds  or  they 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         337 

wouldn't  do  such  fool  things.  Once  they  was  all 
for  living  poor  and  Natural.  Now  they're  all  the 
other  way.  Switching  'round  like  that  is  a  sure 
sign  of  weakness  in  the  top  stories." 

"  Most  city  folks  act  to  me  some  crazy,"  says  I. 
11  And  perhaps  these  two,  being  the  toniest  kind, 
is  crazier  than  others.  Maybe  the  higher  up  you 
go  the  loonier  they  get.  I  read  in  a  paper  once 
about  how  some  rich  big  bug  give  a  swell  dinner  to 
a  pet  monkey.  The  Twins  are  Solomons  along- 
side of  him.  And,  anyhow,  they're  mighty  nice 
young  fellers.  Money  may  have  got  to  their 
heads,  but  their  hearts  is  in  the  right  place." 

"  'Taint  a  question  of  hearts,"  says  Scudder. 
"  Way  I  figger  it  out  the  Almighty  sends  'em  down 
here  on  purpose.  We  poor  folks  alongshore  don't 
have  much  chance  to  earn  an  honest  living,  and  so 
the  Lord  takes  pity  on  us  and  makes  men  like  these 
two  get  cracked  and  hanker  to  live  in  the  sand  and 
spend  money.  You  put  your  trust  in  the  Higher 
Power.     He  evens  matters  up  in  the  long  run." 

His  Lordship  broke  in  then;  and  my!  but  he 
was  top-lofty  and  scornful. 

"  Crazy  yourselves !  "  he  sniffs.  "  My  'eavens, 
I've  done  some  traveling  in  my  time,  with  Lord 
'Enry  and  the  rest ;  I've  been  all  over.     And  never 


338  MR.  PRATT 

in  my  life  'ave  I  seen  such  a  Gawd-forsaken  coun- 
try as  this,  or  such  a  blooming  lot  of  ignorant 
'ayseeds  as  is  'ere.  W'y,  you  don't  know  'ow  to 
live  at  all  and  yet  you're  proud  of  it.  You  'aven't 
no  conveniences,  and  you  eat  with  your  knives,  and 
you've  no  manners.  Lord  'elp  you,  I  say !  You're 
all  crazy  together,  and  don't  know  'ow  to  act  in 
good  society.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  Mr.  'Artley  is 
gentlemen,  and  what  you  call  their  craziness  is  noth- 
ing but  the  eccentricities  of  gentlemen.  And  if  you 
think  they're  eccentric  I  W'y  compared  to  some 
I've  worked  for,  like  Lord  'Enry " 

'Twas  high  time  to  stop  him.  "  But  they're  so 
crazy  loose  with  their  money,"  says  I. 

He  was  hotter  than  ever.  "  Do  you  suppose,'* 
he  asks  sarcastic,  "  that  a  real  gentleman  'as  time 
to  'aggie  over  a  few  dirty  pennies?  " 

Nobody  said  any  more  for  a  spell.  Then  Eu- 
reka says,  like  she'd  been  thinking: 

"  I  cal'late,"  says  she,  "  that  it's  all  in  the 
way  you've  been  raised.  Maybe  I'd  act  just  as 
queer  and  looney  if  I  went  to  the  city;  that  is,  if 
I  hadn't  posted  myself  up  by  my  reading.  I'll 
lend  you  the  Comforters  with  "  False  but  Fair"  in 
'em,  Mr.  Pratt,  some  time." 

Next  day  we  all  met  at  the  Eastwich  depot. 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         339 

Agnes  Page  and  Miss  Talford  and  the  Fresh  Air 
tribe,  including  Redny,  who  was  chipper  and  gay 
because  he  was  going  back  to  New  York.  The 
Heavenly  Twins  was  there.  So  was  me  and  Eu- 
reka to  see  'em  off. 

We  spent  fifteen  minutes  or  more  in  saying  good 
byes.  I  felt  real  bad  and  so  did  everybody  else, 
I  guess.  Hartley  and  Agnes  couldn't  say  enough 
to  me  about  my  sailing  through  that  gale  for  'em 
in  the  Dora  Bassett.  The  poor  old  sloop  was  still 
tied  up  to  the  Wapatomac  wharf.  Baker  had 
been  looking  out  for  her  and  I  was  going  over  that 
afternoon  myself. 

Agnes  said  she  and  Hartley  would  surely  come 
back  next  summer.  I  must  write  and  so  would 
they.  Eureka's  brothers  and  sisters  was  to  have 
money  to  help  along  their  schooling,  and  Washy 
Sparrow  would  keep  wheeling  rocks,  or,  if  he 
didn't,  Squire  Poundberry  would  attend  to  him. 

"  Pa  wanted  a  holiday  on  account  of  your  leav- 
ing, Miss  Page,"  says  Eureka.  "  But  I  told  him 
'twould  be  a  bigger  celebration  if  he  kept  on  to 
work." 

Scudder  wa'n't  at  the  depot.  He  was  too  busy 
moving  the  duds  off  of  Ozone  Island  to  get  away. 
But  he'd  sent  a  package  by  Eureka.     'Twas  a 


34o  MR.  PRATT 

present  for  Van  Brunt;  something  to  remember 
him  by,  he  said. 

Van  opened  it.  Then  there  was  a  general  "  haw 
haw."  'Twas  that  worked  worsted  motto, 
"  What  is  Home  Without  a  Mother?  " 

"  James,"  says  Van,  bubbling  over  with  laugh- 
ter, "  this  is  your  property.  I  couldn't  deprive 
you  of  it." 

His  Lordship  was  disgusted.  "  I  wouldn't  'ave 
the  blooming  thing  in  the  'ouse ;  with  all  respect  to 
you,  sir,"  says  he. 

Agnes  said  she'd  take  it.  It  would  be  a  splen- 
did souvenir. 

11  Scudder's  a  kind-hearted  chap,"  says  Van. 
"  He  means  well." 

That  was  too  much  for  me.  I  took  a  piece  of 
paper  out  of  my  pocket.  'Twas  a  little  bill  I'd 
made  out  the  night  afore. 

"  Here,"  I  says;  "  just  run  your  eye  over  this, 
will  you  ?  " 

Van  took  it.     It  read  so : 

"The  Natural  Life,  Dr.,  to  Nathan  Scudder,  Nature's 
Nobleman,  Rough  Diamond,  and  the  like  of  that. 

15  loads  of  dirt,  at  $3.00  a  load.     That's.  . .  .$45.00 

1 1  hens  and  1  rooster  at  30  cents  a  lb.     That's  12.60  and 

the  hens  and  rooster. 
I   hog — sold    for  $6.00  when  he  was  little 


SIMPLE  VERSUS  DUPLEX         341 

and  thin,  and  bought  back  for   $3.00 

when  he  was  big  and  fat.     That's #3 .00  and 

the  hog. 
160  quarts  of  skim-milk  (he  kept  the  cream 

and  made  it  into  butter  to   sell   us)  at 

9  cts.  a  quart.      That's 14.40 

About  50  lbs.   of  butter  (made  out  of  our 

cream)  at   25  cts.  a  lb.     That's 12.50 

Vegetables  and  truck  (mostly  from  the  store). 

That's  somewheres  nigh 10.00 

Bedding    and    furniture    and    kitchen    stuff. 

That's    about 75'°°  and 

all  the  stuff  back  again. 
Lease  of  Ozone  Horsefoot  Island  for  3  months 

at  550  a  month  (a  cent  more  than  $4.00 

a  year  is  like  robbing  your  grandmarm). 

That's 1 50.00 

For  cancelling  the  lease  which   was  to  run 

till  November.     That's 40.00 

About  60  days,  altogether,  of  secret  keeping 

at   $8.00    a  day  ($3.00   from  E.  V. 

B.  and  $5.00  from  M.  H.).   Call  it,  say  480.00 

Total  (it  ain't  nigh  all) $842.50 

And  twelve  hens  and  one  hog  and  all  the 
furniture  and  land  knows  what  else  be- 
sides." 

"  And  that  don't  count  in  half  of  the  Ozone 
cost,"  I  says;  "  let  alone  what  you  fellers  paid  for 
hiring  his  house  and  Huldy  Ann  and  all." 

Hartley  looked  over  his  chum's  shoulder. 


342  MR.  PRATT 

"  Humph !  "  says  he.  "  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  I 
could  add  an  item  to  that.  What  did  you  pay 
for  those  shore-birds  you  got  when  you  went  gun- 
ning with  Scudder,  Van  ?  " 

Van  blushed  up  some,  but  he  answered  prompt. 

"  Well,"  he  says,  "  to  tell  the  truth,  Scudder 
sold  'em  to  me  for  five  dollars." 

"Yes?"  says  Martin,  laughing.  "I  thought 
so.     I  paid  him  six  for  mine." 

"  There's  no  use  talking"  I  put  in;  "  there  may 
be  some  good  things  about  living  the  Natural  Life, 
but " 

"  But,"  interrupted  Martin,  "  the  financial 
profits  appear  to  lie  in  Scudder' s  plan;  that  is,  to 
have  the  '  good  things  '  live  it  for  you." 

The  train  whistled  up  the  road.  Van  leaned 
over  and  tapped  me  on  the  shirt  front. 

"  Skipper,"  says  he,  "  I  won't  prophecy  concern- 
ing next  summer.  Sufficient  unto  the  day,  etcetera. 
And  I  won't  answer  for  Martin.  But  for  me,  and 
for  this  winter,  if  anybody  asks,  you  tell  'em  I've 
gone  back  to  New  York  to  live  the  most  compound, 
double  duplex  life  to  be  found  from  Harlem  t8l 
the  Battery.  That's  what !  "  says  Edward  Va* 
Brunt. 

THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  128  074     2 


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